


mistakes were made

by epistaxiophilia



Series: found under the couch [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Implied Reaper76, Implied genyatta, M/M, Other, Scent Kink, robovagina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epistaxiophilia/pseuds/epistaxiophilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>overwatch is gaining steam under the authority that they take focus into apprehending a list of enhanced humans that are 'terrorizing' the globe under the wake of its fall. others are allowed to casually ride on coat tails of the new overwatch success to the promised land of peaceful night sleeps and 'friendship', calm collected emotions. it is a ruse, however. there is no promised land.</p><p>mccree-centric fic, mcgenji bffs with benefits, mchanzo later which is more romantic maybe. part 2 in a 1-3/4 part fic series. in relation to the story 'heck', so some things might make less sense if you don't read heck, but i'll try to explain enough that you can make it out without being forced to read double. watch the tags between chapters if i need to add something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ch1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baby it's hot outside~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still don't have a beta, i probably never will because my brain is dumb, but i try.

   A recall, huh? He won't lie, he's been waiting for ages now. Not one-hundred percent expecting to hear from anyone at Overwatch again like this- but not being.. surprised? Jesse Mccree is holed up in his good old 'home' of the US of A, as you do. It's nowhere near the apparently reclaimed remaining watch point that his somewhat familiar old comrade is recalling from, Gibraltar, damn. Coulda been any of the twelve in North America, but noooo. Sounds like the scientist had himself living up there for quite some time- has a nice long story about being left behind when all else left after the complete dismantling of the group, how no one came after him and no one attempted to reclaim or attack the Watchpoint since he took it for himself with Athena. Sure there's a pang of regret to the fact the hyper intelligent gorilla had been abandoned- seeing as how he was accidentally publicly unsafe due to be, y'know, a gorilla, but it isn't as if he'd been having a good go of things in the wake of Overwatch's destruction. The old, worn cowboy would give a lot for a nice, warm bed and no one after his ass for a solid week or more.

   In that train of thought, it honestly takes him days after the received notice to even reply- the chances it's a trap going through his mind first and foremost. It isn't until he gets a coded blip in his emails from a sorely needed and remembered friend that he folds over, musing a hand through his hair in the dark of his hideaway

   -I'm coming to give you a ride.-

   Coming, currently coming to get him a ride. Now how in hell did the cyborg even start to know where he was- the Shimada was smart, but he was just as crafty, and craftier then he was years ago. Things had gotten exponentially worse for him. It's not a comforting idea that he'd just get slipped so easily, but there's a chance that Genji is wrong, and wherever his old foreign friend was heading, he'd been long gone from.

   -Don't bother yourself over me, I'll figure it out.-

   There isn't actually in indicator that it's Genji at all. It's an untitled, unknown number with no calling card. But he 'knows'- and also, who else would so boldly claim to come for him without invite. None left alive could be so headstrong. Mccree hadn't even decided if he was going to be a part of this whole new charade yet. Apparently, once again, someone else was going to make up his mind, or try too.

\---

   The diner was hot and dry; all dirty windows and walls stacked with the trinkets and posters of the trade. Reeking of eggs, bacon, /grease/, and coffee. It's midmorning and everyone is tired, no one is looking at any faces, the old woman filling his cup of stale coffee couldn't care less about the quiet traveler. Mccree tipped well enough to gain his favour. He'd been there recurrently for a week or so now- a few days longer then he had originally intended. It's under a fading hope that the message, that hadn't yet replied to Jesse's dismissal, was actually keeping to its word. At the same time, if he sees the cyborg round a corner, he might well punch him in the chest from the audacity of his actions. It isn't as if seeing the mechanical hybrid wouldn't turn all eyes anyways without him immediately assaulting him, omnics in general being far and few between to spot in this land of sand and dust. He spots an unusually emotive conversation from two men that enter, pausing to greet his waitress, Esther, before continuing the bright conversation.

   “Yeah, there's a weird old jet that landed at the airway nearby, no ones been at that strip for years! I didn't even think there was someone there guardin' it.”, oh boy, that's a bad sign. Or it is a good sign?

   “There probably ain't no one watchin' it, but no one comes here enough to give a shit. Hear the sharrif ain't even given them the time of day!”

   “ I ain't surprise, sheriff's a chicken.”

   The conversation downgrades from being interesting at that point, but it has his waitress’s attention still, so it's startling enough to the people who are here to bring moderate level of concern to the weary cowboy. For Christ’s sake, Genji, he was a /wanted criminal/, and you're a /frightening robot man/, you can't just expect-.. After years of working at Blackwatch. There was no way around it now, if this trouble here /was/ him, he'd punch his square in the steel of his face. Sure it'd hurt his hand more, but it's the idea that makes the statement.

   He's thinking to slip out the door and see what the trouble is for himself instead of waiting for it to come bite him in the ass, but while he's giving his dues to the nice woman, the door opens again. This time it's not anyone he'd seen in the past couple of days, in fact, she stuck out quite a bit in comparison to the dirty and lazy town inhabitants. Sweaty from the sun but nowhere near overdressed, hair tucked up in a bun that's falling apart, it's not exactly anything she's wearing that pins her down but entirely how she acts. The two that were discussing earlier break into silence, before quietly chattering between themselves. They're all suspecting the same thing. Mccree doesn't recognize her at all. She shuffles to the side and out of the way, peering behind thick rimmed glasses to the patrons that stopped to look back at her, and to her phone in front. As if referencing, or attempting to reference the patrons and an image on her screen.

   Her glance stops down at Mccree, who's wide eyed and waiting to run. There's a chance it's somehow related to Genji or Overwatch, but there's a similar chance it's one of his enemies come for his dreadfully high bounty. At first, she doesn't look like the kind of gal to chase down someone, on account of the layer of sweat and exasperated breath from the desert heat- but then he catches a look at her arms, fit behind the chub.. Nothing else saying she doesn't have some freaky weaponry, or supernatural strength as well. She's bridging the gap between them now; he's instinctively backing towards the counter, to a different exit then the front one she blocks off. There's a hand stiffening down to his hidden revolver, but good god does he not want to use it here, and ruin these nice peoples day. When she doesn't seem to notice his apprehension- or his hand drawing to his weapon, it's slightly easing, but then stops short of him, /squints/, between her phone and him.

   “Aahh, excuse me.”, her voice is thick with accent, Asian, probably Chinese...? He should know better exactly but it isn't important now. “I’m looking for someone and I think you could help.”

   Mccree's eye dart between the woman in front of him and his waitress to the side- who's taking to leaning on her palm and watching it like it's a tv show drama. He catches her mouth the words, 'ex-wife?', which he shrugs and smirks too. “Not to tell you wrong, missy, but I'm new to this town, can't say I'm much of anything for findin' anyone.”

   It's hard to lie to her when she looks up at him with those big ol' eyes. “Could you just look at my phone for a second? It won't take more than a minute of your time.”, she's already turned it to his face, but he's moving again, having slipped past her to the side, butt scooting over a counter. She's not acting like she's completely unaware of him trying to escape, but the shorter woman isn't doing anything really to stop him either. A passive sign of peace.

   She might be acting passive, but the unusual situation has claimed everyone else’s attention. They'd been getting wary of the stranger for a couple days now, his strange get-up and secretive demeanor. It was easy to let it slide when it's not worth pursuing in the summer heat.

   The phone screen is still in his face, and he can't help but take a glance at it. “Ma’am, now, that's a handsome devil, but I'm not sayin' he's anywhere near familiar.”

   Her expressions response is sharp, incredulous at his now /very/ bold lying. It's a picture of him- when he was admittedly much younger, arm wrapped around a familiar cybernetically enhanced human. They both know who it is- but she's offering him the chance to come quietly, instead of her blurting out his name and making him very uncomfortable. Resourceful, however, him so close to the door now, she reaches out a hand and grasps at the two smallest on his fleshy human hand, and /squeezes/. It definitely looks like a crazy ex-wife now. Maybe a long lost daughter- she looks young but Jesse doesn't look that old. His eyes roll, mumbling, “ I can't believe he sent some pretty girl to swoon me.”

   “He said you would have punched him.”

   Mccree nods. “ I woulda.”, with his fingers still clamped and claimed, he gestures to the door with the remaining mechanical to offer her lead. She doesn't speak again until they're outside, whining in the sunlight again.

   “ He also said it's not a good place for omnics here, but is that anywhere...”, when she shrinks in the sunlight the cowboy laughs at her blatant inexperience, impressed she'd ever remembered to dress lightly- and then frowns to think she might not have even remembered to put on sunscreen. Without sunglasses even, she's blind flying, the sun very much up from its morning position- but in an act of good faith, he removes his hat, and places it on her instead while they walk. It's a bit of a hike to the airbase he's familiar with, and with her directions, he doubt's he's wrong.

   “What’s your name, little lady?”

   She attempts to slip it off immediately, “Ah, no, it's ok, I'll be fine!”, but the man presses his now free hand against the top of her head, “ Mnn, Mei, Mei-Ling Zhou.”

   The cowboy offers his hand again when she goes to grab it, playfully untrusting. “Well pleasant to gettin' to meet you then. Guessin' you know my name. Where'd the bucket of bolts find a thing like you?”

   “Actually, I found him. We're traveling in my plane.”

   Oh, so it was /her/ that was rescuing the cowboy- it was never Genji. He'd use that against him later. “Oh, well thank you, then, if you aren't aimin' to trap an' kill me still.”

   “This is an awful lot of work to kill a man!”, a hand gestures up to the sun, looking up to it beyond the brim of his hat for a moment before hiding back underneath with a whimper. “I’m sorry, I've been living in the Antarctic for years! Nowhere has any right to be this... /hot/.”

   His steps falter a moment when she says Antarctic. “Now why in the blazes are you livin' in the Arctic? I'd like to say that place ain't got a right in bein' so /cold/... Were you with the 'old company' before it, uh, 'disbanded'..?”

   “I guess so! I did not see it fall. Some... things, happened.”

   “So you were part of the Climate Control group up north, then. Thinkin' about it now, I actually recognize the name, Mei-Ling.” He bites his lip in thought, it wasn't anything Blackwatch was intimately familiar with, but he'd read files. It was nice to go read about the things other people in Overwatch were up too that didn't involve murder, or at least didn't seem like it involved murder.

   “That is very flattering!”

\---

   It's high noon by the time they get to where the jet is parked- and it's rightfully being peered upon by a small crowd of people. Though she'd appeared to be quite exhausted from the walk, he's impressed when the short woman spines up to the group, barking in a mix of English and Chinese to disperse them. The Sheriff had actually arrived- and when asked for proper passage papers and licensing, she produces the documents easily- though as the cowboy peers over her shoulder to the offered certification, Mccree can tell they're doctored. The Sherriff, however, cannot, and it isn't surprising. It's most definitely Genji experienced handiwork. Mei spurns the man finally with a warning of “It’s my fortune, and if I want to spend it on expensive planes and cowboys, I'm going to damn well do it!”, which Mccree can't help but break his silence and laugh too. Buying the cowboy.

    It doesn't exactly satisfy the police presence, but they back off. There's no way they'll get any backup before the woman and her apparent purchase are long gone- and they aren't getting paid enough to stand in the sun and squabble over nothing like this. They needed to move everyone from the strip now instead of blocking the way.

   It's a less then refreshing breath of air when the door opens for them, him trailing after her. The lack of refreshingness is to the fact that it's at least 18 degrees in the mini jet, only a bit less then room temperature of course, but a wild jump from the 30 degrees of outside. Mccree is caught chilled to the bone the moment he steps past the airlock frame, half tempted to turn around just to knock back some of the shock- but he's distracted by the cyborg sat in one of the rowed seats to the back of the plane. Genji stands up once the cowboy is fully inside, apparently slightly surprised by the success.

   “On the first morning you find him! You are a resourceful one, my friend.”

   “He sticks out like a sore thumb! But he had a big gun and nobody wanted to bother with it.”, she replies tersely, sneaking into the cockpit after depositing her borrowed hat on a nearby seat.

   “I do not- I don't 'stick out like a sore thumb'! If I stuck out so bad, I'd be dead.”

   She yells in reply from the cockpit, “BIG GUN!”

   Mccree's head shakes in defeat, removing the aforementioned big gun from its holster and setting it on the chair with his hat, chuckling and returning his attention to his old comrade. He's sat back down again, beckoning the cowboy with a hand to come sit with him before Mei starts the plane and knocks him on his ass during takeoff.

\---

   It's a long flight from here, but the cold air becomes soothing in time and he finds himself having trouble keeping his eyes open and paying attention to his overeager friend. Genji's asking all sorts of questions- where have you been, have you been doing well, have you heard the news. The replies he receives are terse and weary, and after a short of while of 'places, been fine, not as much news as i'd like', they settle into a pseudo quiet behind the muted roar of engines.

   “ .. I should've come for you sooner, hmn?”

   What an oddly intimate sounding comment after a long silence. “ Naw, it ain't like that. Sounds like you got something done for yourself for once, so I ain't gonna complain to that.”

   “That is true. “

   A solid metal finger of his singular augmented hand pushes the brim of his hat up past his eyes, staring down the slit green of Genji's visor. “So tell me then. I'm sure you're eager too share.”

   “ … I mean, I am. But I was hoping you'd tell me about yourself first. It's been six years. “

   “Sorry to tell you, I wasn't up to much but survivin' and losin' track of time. Tell me 'bout this new lot in life you got.”

   He can feel the elation in his robotic friend when he offers his ear- and it isn’t like Mccree is just saying it to make Genji feel better. He really does want to know. Years of knowing the man, he'd never been this easy to slip into a happy demeanor. The cowboy didn't even have to force it- he just sat down, and Genji was 'happy'.

   It's even more startling when he lifts hands to unclasp the mask on his face, removing it with little hesitation before him. Jesse had seen his face before- in the dark, frowning, hesitant. When he removes his guard now, it's vaguely apprehensive but nowhere near the level anticipated. His face is no more scarred then it was, lines drawn across his face like old ragged cuts and burns. The skin down his cheekbones switch out into the metal of his recasted jaw. He expects Mccree to say something about the situation, but appreciates when the cowboy lets it slide with raises eyebrows but silence. Unfettered by the jaw's cover, the cyborg speaks in reply, “When Overwatch was on its knees, I left in search of a home again. I had heard of a place in the Himalayas where a group of Omnics had gathered in a similar sort of search, and out of desperation, I followed.” He shrugged, taking a vague approach to his explanation despite his friend looking very eager for more information, “It started off poorly, but I'd made close friends with one of them there, and he figured a way to make me more comfortable in my skin.“

   “Damn, I'd say it worked... I'd say it's a shame I never could figure you out myself, but I ain't a professional in comparison to a god damn Shambali monk.”

   Genji seems taken slightly aback that the cowboy would have even been aware of them. “You know much of the Shambali?”

    “I mean, damn, they're awfully popular around the 'states now with the omnics not being much liked there anymore. And after their one... ah... “, he falls off his sentence, wrinkling his nose at the thought. “ After that one big leader got shot so recently.” They both sink into their chairs for a moment, Genji from a more intimate sadness and Mccree following suite in empathy. “Ah hell, don't tell me that's the one you were up with.”

   “No no, I mean. Yes, I knew Master Mondatta well. He is... was, my Master's closest brother.” It's weird to see Genji's face while he reacts to things, having wondered for a while now whether he even had facial responses anymore after years of being masked. Apparently so- his eyes are wrenched to the roof, desperately taking in its details to keep his cool. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of my master, Zenyatta, since having heard of Mondatta's death, but have had... no luck...”

   “.. I didn't mean to make you think about it and get all depressed, I'm sorry.”

   Genji's spine straightens at his friend’s quiet remark, arms rising to plant a comforting whap across his thigh. “No, it is fine! It is a thing that has happened, and I cannot just ignore it. I am sure my Master is fine, but busy. Or, hiding maybe. If I can find you in the desert, I am sure he will turn up soon. He was never really good at keeping anyone up to date on what he was doing before either.”

   The optimism flowing from his old friend is infectious, “Well, when I see him I'll try not to crush him with a hug with how well he's done for you, man.”

   “Please do not! He is a civilian built Omnic, I'm certain you would break something if you hugged him the way I know you hug people.” He slaps him again, more forcefully this time, it makes the cowboy jump in pain and break into laughter.

   “Ok, ok! No bear hugs..... and when we get back to base I'm sure we can find a computer or wrangle Athena into helping us find him, too.”

   A finger raises to tap against his face in thought, “Actually, I need your help finding someone else, first.”

   “Oh?”

   “ .. And by find, I actually just mean 'catch'. I know exactly where he is- but in my other research, I'm finding that his 'good' deeds have been catching up with him, and he might be in serious danger soon.”

   “Y’gonna tell me who or are you just gonna make me agree to come along first?”

   “I mean, that is very tempting to see how strong you hold to old promises- but no, I will tell, even though I hesitate to inform you.... I've spoken with him once already, warning him, but I doubt he took it to heart... it is my brother, Hanzo.”

   Mccree's expression sours. Everyone in close hands with Genji knew his fate between him and his brother. The cowboy it starting to regret the impression the aforementioned omnic has left if it's swayed Genji into giving a hot damn about his fratricidal brother. “Alright, I think I need a bit more explanation than that.”

   “Please, think about it more deeply.”, both of his augmented hands rest upon the thick fabric of Mccree's pants now, “ Many times before in Blackwatch, when we'd be working on Shimada gang factions, we would find that supplies had already been cut, or people had already been taken down. I figure now, it was him, having left the clan after my demise. For many years beforehand, me and him were.. We were brothers. I hated him for so long... but now when I think clearly on it, I cannot, and I can see the good in him he tries to bury. I want to see him... I need to see him be given the chance that I have been given. “Jesse flicks his eyes over to him, their vision locking. “ A chance you were given once- in your youth, maybe, but it was given. “

   Ah, when he frames it like that, in the perspective of himself... It's hard for Mccree not to sigh, roll his eyes. “When you put it like that...” It's even harder to stay angry when the other man’s face cracks into a smile across the living flesh and synthetic. It's so weird, stretched between the two materials, but it was /his/, and it was a cherishable sight. “Well, can we at least go to the watch point first for a bit and freshen up.”

  
   “Oh, god yes. With my mask off, now... You smell, so bad.” Mockingly, he leans back in his chair and away from the 'smelly' cowboy, waving a hand over his face.

   The cyborg gets a good return beaten for that, breaking them both into loud, obnoxious laughter. “WELL EXCUSE ME IF I CAN SWEAT A LAKE IN A DESERT.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'know i'm feeling the burn about writing fics in time with a game that updates and adds story and characters so. this was written september 4, 2016. sombra doesn't exist, or if going to exist in a manner i will write myself. eichenwald just came out. if sombra comes out and violently fucks all my shit, i'm going to keep writing all my fics as if sombra was never a big thing. this hacker woman is driving me insane.


	2. ch2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> scene setting, emotions, mindless smut because i needed it.

   Thank god for autopilot, after hours of flight- and for Athena, who in the middle of the night is 'awake' to greet and land the small band of very sleepy people. When they haul their butts out of the jet, they're greeted by an equally groggy Winston, who puts on a very good face despite. Mei and Mccree, between them both sheepish and tired, let Genji lead the pack; still having the energy to be unusually charismatic.

   “Unfortunately enough, we've ran into a bit of a housing hitch ourselves. It isn't as if we don't have space! It's just that we don't have the rooms set up.”

   “Well, though we used to have individual rooms before, it isn't required. “

   “For now, there is a barracks that's... mmmostly set up. “

   “I think we will have a good, not cramped in a plane rest, and then tomorrow the three of us could set up some things around the base for you. It seems as if you and Lena have been a bit too busy. “

   The ape seems extremely relieved at the offering, and that fact none of the three of them were terribly distressed at the... hurried together state of things. He lets them take control of their own fate afterward, distracted by something else, giving them Athena's assistance for what they might need. The AI is forever extremely handy in the situation.

   For the rest of the night from when they arrive around 3(jet lagged to all hell), to the morning, they sleep on dank, dusty, /hard/ beds, but it's nice. Mccree rises first when he finds himself unable to stay unconscious given his internal clock telling him it was midafternoon- but also when his newly given phone blinks, 'Dr. Ziegler would like to have a private word with you whenever you can, Agent Mccree.' A semi-conscious Genji pushes up his face from his 'pillow' of a crumpled shirt when the cowboy rises, but settles when Mccree gives him a dismissive wave. Hopefully Angela is awake this early to talk to him about whatever she wanted.

   It's afternoon in Gibraltar by the time he returns from his somewhat stressful walk with the doctor. Genji is sitting up on his bedframe, legs curled up beneath him and hands resting on either thigh. He doesn't move when the door shifts for Mccree's re-arrival, and neither does Mei, who hasn't even risen from consciousness yet. A head finally tilts to his position near the door when he exhales, long and tired, breaking the meditating one from his thoughts; “Went and had a good talk?”

   “.. Uhh... N... Yes? Maybe? Shit, it's a lot weirder and worse here then I was reckoning to take.”

   Jesse's response earned him his full attention, standing and breaking the gap between him with concerned expression. “What? What has gone wrong? Is Angela-”

   “Oh hell, no, Angela is fine, she wants to see you too but ain't one to tell you you can't take a good rest first.”

   “Well, she took you this morning, so then...?”

   Hesitating, he wraps his human digits up in his hair, slipping off his hat. Under inspection now, there's shallow marks worked into the cowboy’s neck, like claws, that he hadn't remembered seeing before. “I dunno how much you know what they've been getting themselves up too here.”

   He'll leave mentioning Jesse's wounds for later. “Well enough? That Winston called for a recall, has done a few tasks with Tracer, and has since received a few contracts for their work.”

   “One of those contracts was a Talon agent that they were eager to get a hold of- one that went and attacked this base earlier in the year. “

   “What was his name, Reaper? He is a notorious man...What of it? Had they succeed?... Is he loose in the base?”

   “No- well I mean. Yeah. It's weirder than that. “, he's biting his lip, eyes shifted to the side.

   “Spill the beans, Mccree.”

   The childish humour breaks his hesitation with a hushed laugh, shaking his head. “This is stupid. It's- it's fucking Reyes, Gabriel Reyes, and he's really fucked up. I'm feeling mighty awful about it.”

   “... What?”, Genji's expression drops at the completely unexpected information he'd just received. “Didn't he die?”

   “Apparently! I didn't know he'd even faked being dead, I'm so out of the loop.”

   “That is right, you... didn't he.. fire you, before the end of Overwatch?”

   There's a long pause before he responds, head shifted to the side to stare at the dark wall. He barely mumbles an answer, “Yeah, he did.”

   It breaks his mood spiral when Genji reaches a hand over, snaking around the fingers of Mccree's fleshed hand crossed over his chest. “Well, suppose that is fate, then. We will all be together again, for better or worse?” The cyborg shrugs, pulling his hand, toying with his digits in distraction.

   “I’m not even sure he remembers what he did. Dr. Ziegler says he's been real short in the memory department. Act's like nothing's wrong, but claims he's 'dead', that he's someone else. Weird, stupid shit.”

 

   Genji remembers well how close him and Reyes were- his leader having hand picked him from a lineup of gang rats just as well useless and guilty he was. Raised him from a late lot in life to the man he was now, affectionate but hard handed in his labour. Genji knew the man himself, as well, having done much work for Blackwatch- but it was never requited much like they were. In the way he explains it, it's much as if Reyes' had simply blown him off in the end, violently removing him from Blackwatch residence and to the street without warning. “Wasn’t he sick? You told me, before he made you leave, he was sick.”

   “.. Yeah, I did, didn't I? God, I hardly remember myself. Jack sent me to talk to him, and he threw me on the damn streets. Don't know why I feel pity for him now at all.”

   “I do.”                                                                                                                                

   He laughs at the honest response. Mccree did know, exactly why. Sighing and groaning into the air, he's so tired, but they did promise before that they would set themselves up in the rooms allotted to them; Mei was still asleep, and the day was still young even though it felt like it the middle of the night. They break from the painful conversation, for now, gently rising their slept female cohort. Work to be done.

\---

   Mccree brought nothing with him, having nothing of importance to bring, Genji has a small bag of essentials, and Mei has three suitcases of everything but the kitchen sink. Admittedly, it's primarily equipment of her trade, environmental gauging devices handmade and irreplaceable. They rib on her for a short while at the obvious stereotype, but it made sense logically.

   It's not exactly worse than they were expecting when they got to the hallway of single room dormitories, but everything, literally every part of every room was in storage. Bed frames stacked in once room on a wall, mattresses and shelves in another. The bathrooms were dusty, but the pipes all worked after a few minutes of leaving them on. The place was built to last, at least. Some of the rooms had already been haphazardly set apart- Lena, making due with a mattress on the floor with bags and clothes everywhere, Angela having unpacked most of her things in the medical bay, many others in all sorts of disarray. Sheepishly, Winston even asked if they're help set up some for others who'd yet to even arrive. What else were they doing with their day.

   It ends up being a whole lot of Mccree standing around, telling Genji and Mei where to put things. They had a strength off earlier to see who would be holding doors or carrying things, and to his shame, the cowboy was beaten out by the thicker set woman- whether it be that out of laziness he threw the title of strength out, or if his 'old age' was getting the better of him, none would know.

   Despite never knowing her personally before, the conversation acts like they'd been amiable for years. “If you don't pivot it through that door more, you ain't ever gonna get through.”

 

   “I am pivoting! If I move anymore, I'm going to crush my hand in the doorway!”, the woman is wrenched between the wall and the metal bed frame, in the last room of the hall. Genji is trying hard not to laugh, but they'd been working for hours at this point. They'd earlier tried taking the frames apart first before squeezing them into rooms, but it proved to be a terrible idea when they'd attempted to reconstruct them afterward, screws going mysteriously missing, tools being insufficient. Mei crying about being a very well educated scientist but unable to build a simple structure, Genji and Mccree making an offhand comment about missing Torbjorn. She didn't entire get it, but could get the reference in context.

  “Well, back up a bit then, maybe I have not come in at a good enough angle myself.” The cyborg breaks words in between the two of them before she drops the bed and starts hitting the very unhelpful cowboy

   “Ahh, I do not think that will help. How did they get this out and in in the first place? “

   “They probably took it apart.”

   “I am not doing that again! Are we even going to go back and finish the one we broke earlier?”

   “'We' broke? Nu-uh not me, and also, it'll be funnier if we leave it for someone to fall through later.”

   They mostly got it through now, having worked it around the door in a stifled rage. It was scratching the paint now, but neither of them were going to stop the determined woman, who'd taken to shouting at the inanimate object in her native tongue. “Yes, but it would also be rude! And I am not your handy friend, so I am not qualified to fix it.” She's teasing back at him, looking back a moment to give Jesse a smug expression.

   “Oh hush now, I'm sure we can work it out step by step.” She doesn't reply with words, just a solid tone of rejection, before pulling her weight back and /slamming/ into the bed, leaving Genji to yelp and dodge the incoming metal. It was free now- and it wasn't broken, miraculously. The door frame would have seen better days.

   “.. Alright! We're gonna be done now. We can put mattresses in when people actually show up. That way they can choose the one they want.” The cowboy shrugs, giving her a respectable pat on the back.

   “.. Sure, I will take that as an answer. They are all awful, though, I do not know how anyone could choose.”

   “We chose our own before.”

   “I just took the top one off the pile..!”

   “Yeah, that still choosin'.”, she stares up at him, incredulously, as he winks. There's some metal shifting and creaking while Genji pushes the frame into the corner, and the shelf they'd brought in earlier to a wall. In the coming silence, Jesse'd notice, her stare gets a bit vacant again, for a moment and she sighs when the cyborg resurfaces in the doorway. “Are we all gonna go sit down now? I wonder if they even got food in the kitchen.”

   “Peanut butter.”, the cyborg mumbles, tilting his head. He might be answering the question, but it's obvious he's mentally occupied with figuring out why, for the fifth time now, their new comrades mood dips like a cliff. It's anytime Mccree gets particularly friendly, they both note, the arm wrapped around her shoulders. He lets it slip off her back, and give her a good look himself.

   “Now it's hard on a man's ego when a girl gets all down whenever he gives her a hug- but don't be afraid to tell me when to shove off, y'hear?”, he's backing up a bit now, but she's quick to jump back to reality and grasp at his arm.

   “Uh-uh, oh, no it is not like that!”

   “Mei, forgive me for asking,”, Genji breaks in, “I know when you first contacted me, when I asked for assistance, you said you were coming from the Arctic, by yourself. And I did not question it then, but I feel I must ask you now.” It's obvious she's uncomfortable when he presses- Mccree's about ready to stop him, but gives the cyborg a level of trust in knowing what he's doing. “Or maybe, instead, I'll just tell you, that you're free to talk about it, with either of us, I'm sure.” He looks up to the cowboy, expectantly, and he nods in turn- even though he doesn't exactly catch what Genji means by his accusation.

   She rocks on her heels a minute, eyes off to the side. “Yeah, o-ok. But I don't really feel like it right now, I am too tired. How about I go to the kitchen and see what it is like, and you two can stay and finish up?”

   Catching her over stimulation, he nods, “Of course, you do that. Message us when you are ready, or maybe we will message you instead when we are done.” Her response is nod, and a tiny bow before skittering off.

   With his hands on his hips, Mccree takes in the conversation slowly. “She told me she was with the climate control group up north doin' research there. You can't be running a whole facility like that by yourself, right.”

   “No, you cannot. Also, it was taken down by a freak storm nearly ten years ago, if I am remembering my business right.”

   His expression wrinkles his face, hands rising to rub the tension out. Speech muffled between his fingers, “Well damn. Didn't even occur to me at all.”

   “That is fine. We all have our own problems.”

 

   “Yeah that's not much of an excuse-”, Genji is quick to interrupt his thought, slipping a hand around his fingers again and pulling it away from his face.

   “It is, I assure you- and I also assure you, that Mei will not take your lack of realization as apathy. Come on, we have to pretend we can fix a mangled bedframe.”

\---

   “Alright, no, I ain't doin' anymore of this. There was other bedframes.”

   “I am not hauling in another one of those metal death traps, especially when all I have is /you/ to help me carry anything. “

   “Oh come on, I wasn't that bad!”

   They're arguing on a discarded mattress next to the wall, the impromptu bed of this room. The pieces of the aforementioned destroyed frame are worse than how Mei had left it. One might swear they'd been broken on purpose in some places. It's decided then this would just be Jesse's room, him not caring a single damn if he lived on a mattress on the floor with some jagged metal as company. The shelf still fit afterward, and that's all that mattered. Genji had been occasionally messaging Mei when their proposed small job turned into an impossible task- but it seemed she'd found herself in the company of Fareeha, and they were well together in the kitchen attempting to make anything edible.

   Despite being in the middle of a pseudo argument, the cowboy slips down from his sit propped onto the wall to a complete lay, pulling his hat over his face.

   “Oh, are you done now? Just like that?”

   “Can you blame me? I'm plum tuckered out, Genji, we didn't end up gettin' to go eat nothin' and it feels like it's two in the mornin'.”

   “Whoops, I forgot.”

   “Forgot what?”

   “How often you need to eat.”

   “You need to eat sometimes too!”

   “Yes, but I have in the last couple of days, so it does not feel dire.”

   “Ha, whatever. “, but he can feel Genji stand abruptly, “Huh? What's up?”

 

   “I'll go get you something, you just rest off.”

   “Heck, I am not that old, you don't need to babysit me.” He can feel a spikey foot pressing into his thigh, jiggling the meat beneath.

   “Maybe I just feel like babysitting you.”, but Mccree didn't stir from his nap position, so the cyborg was free to wander off as decided.

   It only takes fifteen minutes for Genji to get to the kitchen and back, Mei and Fareeha having made pasta from cans that weren't exactly expired, and when turned into proper foodstuff, were definitely in the category of edible. Apparently Reinhardt was out this very moment getting more supplies, but for them, it was nearly expired spaghetti time. They had no problem with the cyborg stealing a bowl and wandering back to his poor weary cowboy- even though Mei wouldn't skip a chance to ask what he was even tired about, having done little to none of the labour. (Fareeha remarks that, if her memory served well enough from her youth, that Mccree was always tired and lazy.)

   And in speaking of being tired and lazy, he is dead asleep by the time Genji returns; curled up on his side, hat discarded. Sure, Genji could leave him there now- as much as he didn't need to eat right now, he could use the pasta himself, but then he knew his friend would be even more groggy and irritable when he awakes- nearly 24 hours without anything. A hand slips up his side, gently, the cyborg placing the bowl well enough away that if he thrashes it would be in no danger- and the cowboy does thrash, jumping at the sudden touch when it reaches his armpit, flipping onto his back and whipping a hand to slap the offender. Genji's expecting it, though, prepared to glance the blow off his wrist, giving the man a moment to readjust. He groans a long, solid note when his vision clears upon his unmasked friend, face soft and understanding.

   “Shit, sorry, I-”

   “Do not be sorry. Here,”, he pulls the other man into a sit again, slipping to seat beside him. Mccree snuffles the air when he remembers why Genji had left in the first place, and spotting the substance, goes for it a bit too needily then he'd prefer in public- but well enough in the company of close friends.

   Were they still close friends? There was a catch of doubt in his thoughts, dark and muddied in sleep and hunger. Here he is, with a mouthful of spaghetti, and he finds himself staring over at the other man for a moment- who out of good faith was staring at the wall instead of watching him eat in close quarters. His expression was one of simple content, just happy to be here with him. It was like they'd switched places mentally sometime over the last years. Again, he couldn't be happier for him, but also, wondered quite a bit where his own pep had wandered off too. After a few moments of silence, Genji's eyes flick back to Jesse's, and they lock staring for a moment before an eyebrow rises from the cyborg, his head tilting.

   “You're supposed to put all of it in your mouth, and swallow.”

 

   He's about to throw his head back and groan, but there's still spaghetti there, and he chomps it down first, staring down at the bowl and getting red in the face. When he's not about to choke, he replies. “God damn, every time I think you might be a different person, you go and say shit like that.”

   “What? A different person?”, his tone is more concerned then joking.

   “I ain't meanin' like, I don't want you to be a different person. Or like, I mean, I ain't wantin' you to be completely different. You're just. I don't know what to tell yah'.” Mccree's caught up in his embarrassment now, mind foggy, trying to figure out his words.

   Genji's reply is first punctuated by quiet laughter, “You do not need to explain further, I understand. Like I said. It took a very good teacher to guide me to be like this, and to share his vision. A vision of comfort.”, the cowboy watches his friends eyebrows furrow, thinking again of his lost omnic master. “Even without him, I must keep on my path, and I want to help others find theirs, also.”, the slips a mechanical hand about the finished bowl, setting it down beside them. “You are easy, because you have had it before, but seem lost now. But, if you think you might be too lost, then you will just have to help me find my Master to fix your problems.”

   He nearly shoves him off there, playfully, “I ain't that lost! “, but he's staring at his hands now, legs splaying out in front of him. “...'Least I didn't feel like I was till you started pointin' it out.”

   A pang of confusion hits him when he can feel Genji tugging on the material of his shirt, sneaking a finger into the hidden side buttons. “Let me see your augmentation, I can hear one part from a mile away.” His eyes roll, 'thanks mom but no thanks', in his head, but the metal arm rises, letting the cyborg get a closer inspection. His shirt has special clasps to fit around the plating on his stomach- and while parts of the plating come off the armor atop it all, places where the tubes fit into his midsection do not. To the untrained eye, it might seem like it /is/ a simple armor piece, but Genji knows well what the cowboy holds. “This part does not look like Dr. Ziegler's work.”

   “That's cause it ain't. I broke some of it one day.”

   “How did you /break/-, have you been maintaining it at all?”

   “Come on now, you know the answer to that question without me havin' to say it outloud.” The cyborg replies with a 'tsk tsk', Jesse moving himself more to remove the chest plate at least, which truly was just armor. As much as he was able to take the part guarding his apparently previously wounded midsection himself, it /was/ easier with help. Some parts hiss in stress when removed, gaining Mccree an exasperated sigh from his friend every time. “Before you even say it, /no/, Angela is busy with other shit like Reyes and it /works/, for now.”, but it's a very comfortable stretch when the last piece of tubing is removed. He's left shirtless, skin below his ribcage uncovered. It's in very much similar to the softer brown patches of Genji's own body, having come from the same place. It's the entire section of his front from his ribs to his hips, but the skin remaining scars more on the left where his robotic arm held its place. He can live without the parts for a while, but they did do a task. Heck if he knew exactly what, but he was assured it was very dire to him staying alive. While they were removed, however, it felt like getting an ancient itch scratched.

   “I am very sure she would not mind. If I had anything wrong with me, I would have gone to her shortly, but /I/ am smart enough to take care of myself.”

   “Bah, spare me your lectures. If I ain't feelin' like it, and it ain't killin' me, I ain't goin'.”, he swats at him with barely any effort, laying again and tired, but the food was kicking in. He wasn't about to pass out on him again.

   “Very well. What about this then.”

   His eyes are closed, but he feels something press against his bare chest. It isn't a hand, as those were, one, resting on his forearm, and two, sliding down his hip. When his eyes flick open again, his chin squishes down and he's gazing upon Genji with his face, of all things, nestled on his ribs. He rumbles the aforementioned offender a note of curiosity deep in his chest. “Mnnn, I see.”

   “Unless you are too tired.”

   “.. I am, pretty tired, but also,”, he's making more of a mental note, stopped to gaze into dark at solid orbs in the black of the room. Genji's iris were dark as it was, but there was something in his expression to tell the deep dilation of his pupils, like a cat. He'd been familiar with this look in the past- 'like you keep saying things to make me think you're someone else, but then you go and do this.'. “What, didn't you go hang out with a bunch a' monks in the mountains, and you're still like this.”

   “What, you dislike it so?”, his head tilts up, eyes lidding when he puffs an warm breath of dejection across his chest. “... And, you would be surprised.”

   “Mn? About what.”

   “About the monks, in the mountains.” A finger is trailing on the cowboys hip, between his own skin and the synthetic. He can't see it, but he feels it, making his leg shake, ticklish.

   “You can't tell me it's common practice for omnics to be wanton like this.”

   “No, I cannot, that is not true. But stress relief is, just that. Not all were willing, but I was not condemned for it.”

   “.. I am, real happy for that, in this moment.” A hand lifts from its place, subconsciously, before digging into the fabric of the mattress; it cups the cyborgs chin for a moment, sliding up his head and over the dips in the metal helmet. “So, I actually did help back then.”

   “Of course you did- Not just with your dick, Jesse.” 

   “You knew what I meant you heathen.” Having been invited at this point, Genji pushes up from lying beside the other man to instead straddle his hips, pressing down between his legs with his ass. “Y'know, it ain't like I just noticed in this moment, but I wasn't going to question it. You, are naked.”

   “Yes.”

   “All the time now.”

   “It's comfortable. And many omnics do the same.”

   “Yeah, some of them, but you aren't an omnic.”

   “I sort of am?” He chuckles, “Also, if you cannot see my privates, it does not count.”, a hand presses between his legs, fingering over the layer of material that came from his stomach and drew itself all the way down to between his asscrack.

   “You're gonna make Angela blush.”

   “If she is how I remember, she would probably encourage it out of humor.”

   “Well, I'm gonna to encourage it, because,” both his hands push forward now, at first feeling up the cyborgs thighs, then migrating to reach behind to his ass, gripping the softer synthetic flesh in his palms. “I ain't sayin' no to the chance to stare at your bare ass all day.” Planting his feet on the floor, he bucks into the straddling other, earning him a squeak of protest.

   “It is not just about being /sultry/, Jesse.”

   “I feel like, that is a big part of it.”Mccree's response earns him a metal digits clamping over his mouth, and a long sssshhhhhhhhhhhh.

   The hand remains there for now, the unoccupied leftover toying with a belt bucket in practiced skill. It's hilarious to him that the cowboy would still be wearing this awful thing. When he slips those metal fingers below the belt, it's not surprising to find his friend half hard and wanting, Mccree's hips shifting beneath at the touch. They had done this enough times now he'd call himself quite adept at knowing where and what to touch and press- but Jesse was also notoriously easy to please. His hands are still digging into the flesh of the cyborg's ass, the metal of the cowboys prosthetic squeezing well enough to leave bruises if it was something the synthetic flesh was capable of. Encouraging him to rid a bit more of the fabric keeping his dick away from its pleasure, Genji pushes the gripping hands off his ass, flexing his legs upwards to form a gap between them while the other man below shimmies his pants just past his butt- if he tries to remove them, they'd get caught on his knee brace, but in this position while somewhat inconvenient, still gave him full throttle over his hips. When the cyborg sits back down, he squishes the well and hardened flesh between the soft material that served as his only 'clothes' now, and the cowboys augmented abdomen. There's no more treasure trail to dig into that Genji might fondly remember, but he wouldn't show any affection for the past, less the other man think he'd not cherish the parts of his body that was given now. How hypocritical that would be.

   It's a single clip that frees the rubbery band between his robotic legs, his hand pulling the material back between his ass and freeing the perfect little pussy beneath. He'd long since gotten over his mismatched genitalia, if he'd even think to call it that anymore, having learned to love the different kind of pleasure it provided. It's as 'perfect' as Mccree would ever recall it to be, pushing up on his elbows to get a better look at himself pressing against wet flesh of it, nearly a cartoon adaptation of a cunt. He doesn't hesitate to slip his hand back over the cyborgs thighs, scooping up his own erection and pressing the tip again the Genji's clit; it earns him a solid groan. Mccree doesn't get to lead along for long though, both his hands being clasped at the wrist and eased down to either side of his head. There's no sense complaining, and all thoughts of it leave him when the heat of the other man presses his dick between the two of them again, rubbing the head back between synthetic tummy and the gentle folds of the cyborgs pussy. He's going to ride him out too quickly at this point, it's been a while, so sue him. When digits press into his wrists to slow him, Genji obliges, staring down at the other man with a head tilted. Mccree's expression is already worn- ruddy in the cheeks and lidded, his tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth and grinds between his teeth in focus. It isn't as if Genji's expression isn't similar, but more that he isn't being directly observed, he isn't completely taken by the situation. Poor weary cowboy, must be very tired. The cyborg at first thought to give him a rougher time, but he's gained too much pity for that now.

   Leaning over, his hand reaches behind to give the now free dick a few experimental tugs, before positioning it at his entrance, Mccree leaving his hands at his head in submission. He's already quite wet, but the thing never exactly stretched itself beforehand, his cunt being a well enough adaptation in looks but a bit weird on how it actually acts. He inches the length of it in, sighing from the stretch, but gets good and caught off guard when beneath him, Mccree bucks rough an inch. He cries out, pained, but they're both familiar enough with each other to know it when it keens into pleasure. Taking stride in the other man’s forwardness, the cyborg slams down the last few inches himself, a wet noise resounding in response when their skin meets at the end- and in punishment, internally, he squeezes the offending shaft. With how tight it is already, so fresh in their little escapade, the cowboy’s grips at the material of the mattress near his head, and nearly moves to grip back to Genji's thighs- but they're caught again held in the place he desired them to be. It's only a second before he releases his dick, them sighing in unison- but before Jesse can really catch his breath, Genji is bouncing on his hips at a quick self-set pace. Between them, Jesse always was the louder lover, his cries breaking from harsh breaths to raspy moans, his hips jerking in time with the cyborgs bounce; but in learning to love himself better now, the cowboy is quite pleased to hear, for once, cries other than his own breaking between slick slaps of flesh. It's a higher whine then then Mccree's own, thrilling him more then he'd expect it to.

   Genji's pace is fine and dandy, for sure, and it isn't as if the cyborg couldn't easily keep it for hours if required, but there's an inkling reminder in the cowboy's head, that it actually is the middle of the day, and that while it's unlikely that Mei might return, or anyone might wander by, it's most likely that he would tire in minutes now. He braces his knees up, pivoting upwards to gain control. The motions stop for a moment in confusion from the readjustment, and Mccree's hands slide up, forcing away from Genji's restraining grasp to the other's back; he pulls the cyborg forwards until his head pressed into the cowboys shoulder, breathing wet into his neck. When he has him fully horizontal, the pace gets set a new, brutal and wanton. It's even more arousing with these newfound cries of his usually muted partner cracking directly into his ear, unrestrained, but in a moment Genji directs his current lack of power into teeth jamming around the skin of Jesse's neck, pushing his chin away roughly to suck into the flesh there- tonguing out over cuts he had neglected to ask about earlier. His legs are numb from the slamming pressure inside of him, no chance of being able to push back adeptly from this position, comforted to be used for completion.

   It felt much longer then it took, but his feet thump against the floor when Jesse's pace breaks, stilted, scrapping his fingers across the unyielding skin of Genji's back to find purchase in his climax. He cums right inside him, deep and unapologetic as ever. It's a wet mess between their legs, Genji's own fluid pure and clear, but when after a minute Mccree removes himself and the cyborg can squeeze in his own satisfied pain, it mixes thick and white, dripping from his used self. The cowboy is totaled now, though he doesn't regret, his head is so foggy he's nauseous. He can hear Genji tease about something, something about there being no towels here, wondering if the bathroom even has toilet paper, but catches the over exhausted man wheezing pitifully below him, and sighs, wistful.

   Assisted, they clean up well enough not to leave stains on the unsheeted mattress, but when Mccree wakes in the morning(the middle of the night), he doesn't entirely remember how the night unfolded. Genji, however, is still in in bed, the two of them cramped together but comfortable and wrapped in a found blanket, so he's safe to assume it didn't go entirely embarrassing. Remind him not to fuck on no sleep and a half empty stomach. At least, despite his internal clock rising him at a given hour, he's left still so wasted tired, his eyes lid and he sleeps again for the rest of the night. What did he have to wake up for here anymore, anyways?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of this is dedicated to my friend that i had to help move in not enough time. i was very much mccree in the situation and was very usefully quoting friends and occasionally failing to open doors.
> 
> i have a fic in the works of mccree's and genji first fuck, but i've rewritten it twice now because i'm picky and can't decide exactly how i want it to go down. 
> 
> am i breaking my paragraphs up well enough? it's hard to tell.


	3. ch3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i guess we can just, go do it ourselves. what could go wrong?

           Genji rises later in the morning, but not before the afternoon. It's been nearly 16 hours, he wonders if he'd done the other man in too roughly, but he breaths, seems well enough. It gave him enough time to clean and sort apart the haphazardly repaired pieces of Mccree's stomach- and even a bit to carefully look over his arm as well. He was right, it was all still 'working', but taking care of the mechanical overlays to his body wasn't something he'd been taught; in Blackwatch, it was sorted out for them both. Genji would remember a time once, when he was in the same sort of condition, but learned to repair himself with the Shambali. While they had some dedicated mechanics for them there, it was easier to do the little things yourself. Mccree's disrepair was many little things atop each other. 

            Unfortunately enough for them both, a few messages received over the last days since their arrival at the watchpoint were none too comforting in the state of affairs that included one Hanzo Shimada. Honestly, he couldn't have expected to be given a satisfactory amount of time, having wasted a deal of it on finding Mccree in the first place- but he knew the cowboy had been worked harder in the past.

            On the opposite side of things, after he'd sorted and put back together some of Jesse's parts, he'd found enough time to take a better walk around and meet up with the good doctor himself. She's at work, as always, he ducks into the medbay. Her attention is grasped immediately, rising from her chair and breaking the gap between them without so much as a word. It's not surprising when she'd rather give him a powerful hug then break into greetings, but he laughs confused anyways, returning the affection without hesitation.

            “Well hello to you too, Dr. Ziegler! You hug me like we haven't talked in years, but-”

            “I am not going to count sparse and confusing messages as 'talked!' Even if you were not so vague, nothing is quite like seeing you in person. Ah, you look so well!” She pushes back away from the hug, holding onto his biceps and taking in the sight of him.

            A hand gestures to his own chest modestly, “Well, I do try. I would not want your hard work squandered.”

            She looks like she's about to comment more on that, but levels her eyes downwards, brows furrowing, before looking back up at his masked face. “You know, Genji, the monks might pressure you into giving up your worldly possessions, but-”

            He shrugs and interrupts her, “Shh, no one has questioned it. Well, Jesse did, but not immediately.”

            She looks legitimately concerned at first, but her expression breaks into a smile, and a laugh- “Christ, you are shameful. Fine, you do whatever you want, you're as clothed as some women I see on the beaches.” She waves a dismissive hand, shaking her head, “But yes, I had heard you went a long way out to find Mccree as well! And the new girl, Mei, how is she? Fareeha implied she was not doing very well.”

            “Ah, you might want to pin her down for that conversation yourself. “They move to her desk nearby, covered in old papers, where she can sit again for their chat. Genji unceremoniously shifts the work aside to sit down on her desk, which she replies to with an exasperated sound, but does not try to remove him. “She will probably be about the only one here who has not seen a fight herself- I do not know what to tell her for her loss.”

            “Alright, I will keep that in mind- But, just you three? I would've been certain that you would have brought your omnic friend who I had been talking with before.”

            “I had left the Shambali in order to deal with some of my own problems, my master Zenyatta having stayed behind in his home in the absence of their leader, Mondatta.” Angela's nose scrunches at the mention of the assassinated omnic. “I have attempted to contact him since the death of his brother, but I have had no luck with it. It seems as if he had left the Shambali as well at some point to wander shortly after I did, and since the death, has contacted no one with his whereabouts.”

            “Ah, oh my friend, I am sorry. Are you not sure he is just laying low for the time being?”

            “I am much hoping this is the case, but he hasn't even answered the personal device I left for him.... It isn't out of the question he would misplace that, however.” His face lays to rest in his palm, knee raised to the desk to rest his elbow on. “Ah, no, I am sure he is fine, but occupied. I appreciate the concern, Dr. Ziegler.”

            “Well, Genji, me and him talked quite a bit in emails, so it isn't as if he's a complete stranger.”

            “Ah, I forget that, I had missed out for much of that. He had mentioned it but didn't go into detail.”

            He was about to start into the conversation he'd meant to start the moment he had come here, but they were interrupted by a voice, “Agent Mercy, your presence has been requested at the mission room. Can you oblige?”

            “Oh, yes Athena, of course. We will talk more in a bit, yes my friend?”

            “Of course, Mercy. Work calls.”, he gives her a quick nod, gesturing her to the door. Genji /was/ going to ask her whether or not she would be too occupied to help him with his personal project, but it appears he is slightly too late. No bother, it would have been nice to have her company, but he didn't want to be imposing. It was just as nice to simply have their small chat for now. Also, he worried, if she might not take to saving his brother as carefree as Mccree might have earlier- but then again, Angela always wanted to help.

            He could no longer wait for her return though, and after a few hours, asks for information on what everyone else was becoming up too. It's a rescue mission, the AI responds, but none of the newest of them have been invited, in the fact that they would still be weary or still adjusting to their surroundings. She is a bit concerned when he lets slip that he actually needed to go on a rescue mission of sorts himself, and hopes that they weren't expected to be at base to watch it while some others were absent. Athena informs him, no, they were under no obligation to stay, but he might want to tell Winston they were going somewhere, and who he was inviting. If he neglects to do so, however, she would do her best to keep his whereabouts to herself.

            Mccree is face down on the kitchen table when Genji finally figures where he wandered off too. Mei is there too, watching him with concern, eyes flicking up to the cyborg when he enters. “Your friend is having a bad time.”

            “… Seems like it. Look lively, soldier!”, he imitates their old commander, forgetting for the moment that it might be in poor taste given the situation. Mccree however still laughs from his crossed arms pillow, rising his head shortly after to give Genji a fatigued look.

            “I'm alive! Heck, I am more alive than I've been in years.” Sitting up, he leans all the way back in his chair to attempt at cracking his spine, stretching his arms above his head and screaming a yawn.

            “That is good to hear, because I have received not so great news, and I need to leave again much sooner than anticipated.”

            “Ohhhh, but we just got here.” The woman groans, laughing with her face in her palms.

            “I do apologize, Mei, and if you want to stay here instead, it is ok. Not you though, Mccree, your assistance is not an option.”

            “Yeah fuck you too, buddy.”

            “No, it is fine! I said I would help, I will not go back on my word. Also, who would fly the plane?”

            “I ain't flying a plane.”

            “Shush, I can fly that plane myself, and I have Athena on my side as well. “

            “Ain't she gonna be a bit busy with whatever the rest of the crew is getting' done in Mexico soon?”

            “You are very much underestimating what she can do.”

            “Nah nah, no, I get it. You even hear what they're doin' down there?”

            “Yes? There is a high priority target there that has requested extraction. “

            The cowboy rises his eyebrows a few times, giving him a shit eating grin. “Yeah, it's real sneaky like. Who you think they're sendin' down there to do it?”

            “... Tracer?”

 

            Mccree replies with his teeth, biting at the air in irritation. “/Reaper/. Tracer said no cause her last mission wasn't so great, and they ain't wantin' to ask you because you seemed occupied.”

            They can't see it, but his eyes widen, back straightening in response, “Oh, that- no, I would do it, if they need me, I just- .. Aahh no, shit.” His hand is on his face, rubbing the facemask in stressed thought. “That is a terrible idea! Have they not read any of his files?!”

            Mei doesn't understand the bad reaction at all, frowning deep and darting her eyes between the two.

            “It's too late now, they've already basically decided- and they were right, you /are/ too occupied to jam another stealth mission in, it's a choice between lettin' them let that confused psychopath go, and goin' after your brother.”

            He's painfully right. However, he knew Dr. Ziegler was there when the decision was made, and he wasn't about to discredit her opinion. The doctor was far more educated on the subject then himself. “Well, you know which decision I will make. Unless, you are very against it.”

            “Nah, you already told me my opinion ain't gonna matter.” Jesse teases, winking an eye.

            “I was /joking/, Mccree, if you really-”

            “Hush now, it's fine. I'm used to things like this bein' outta my hands. When are we leaving now, then? A bit after everyone else so we can sneak with their radar?”

            “That was the plan, yes. It will take us longer to get where we are going, however, so we will get caught returning. “

            “Gettin' yelled at was always better then asking permission.”

            “Really?” Mei finally reinserts herself in the conversation, “What will you do if you get in trouble?”

            “.. Talk my way outta it?”, he turns to her again when she speaks, giving her a wink and a smirk as well; his fingers snap and point. “Missy, I'm afraid you made friends with the bad boys, little situations like this are gonna come up a lot for you now.”

            “… But not the worst boys, I hope.”

            After a moment he laughs, face growing nervous but still humoured, “Nope, they're sendin' that one down to Mexico, you're good... for now.”

            “Oh, well that's comforting.”

                                    ---

            It's the three of them again, alright, this time going out for their fourth- Mccree and Genji are leaning against each other and peering at his phone. The final Shimada has himself holed up in a district uncomfortably close the the headquarters of their long since left clan hideout- apparently finding great issue in escaping himself from the city since having visiting his 'dead' brothers pseudo shrine.

            “The little fucker sneaks into the Shimada estate every year to try and honour you.”

            “.. Sneak is a very strong word.”

            “You can't tell me he just busts in, guns a blazin' and makes it every year. It's the same day, every year. You can't tell me the Shimada clan heads, the yakuza, just /let him break in/, every year on the same day.”

            “I don't think they 'let him', but it seems after years of trying to stop him, they eventually just... yes actually, it seems a bit like they let him. However this year, they were witness to dragons fighting on the balcony, and have become a bit more concerned with my brothers abilities.”

            Mccree stops to stare at him for a moment, thinking it over. He's heard of the dragons before, not having witnessed it himself, but the doctor professes in her heart and mind, that the thing is /literal/. “You dummy- you just had a brother dragon fight out in the open?!”

            “.. I did not think about it well enough. I was hoping we would not have too, or he would be smart enough to unleash himself inside rather than outside. It could not be expected that the night would go completely seamless.”

            “Well, I guess we're fixin' the mistake now, aren't we. He should be glad he's got such a nice brother as you.”

            “Trust me, he will not be glad for me even the tiniest bit.”

            Mei flicks over onto their Overwatch given comms, a chirp resounding in their ears before she speaks. “We're nearing the port now. You are sure this is going to work? I am just going to... land? This is not an abandoned strip in the American desert, Genji.”

            “Trust me, Mei, I have done this many times before- especially in Japan. I have many friends here.”

            “O-okay. We're about half an hour out now.”

            “Thank you, my friend. All will be well.” Mccree gives him a sidelong glance, eyebrow raised, but with no words. “Many remain leftover from Overwatch- small time, no interest in the coming uprising, but still very much willing to help.”

            “And you trust'em?”

            “I do not see why not. I thought you would be much the same, in America.”

            Sure, there was some familiar names and faces that might give him a couch to nap on or a coffee on the house, but no one who would escort him from a international airport. They both worked a bit differently, it seemed.

            It's surprising to all but Genji when it goes off without a hitch. They arrive around 6pm and are met by an omnic with a weirdly human name and a personality that set Mccree on edge, but he shut his gut feeling down in trusting his friend who was familiar with him. Mei stays behind on the plane, while the omnic leads them off to the side streets- but leaves them there to their mission discretion, not being one to get in the way of men at work, he claims.

            They wait there, in a street restaurant for a long while- Jesse takes to eating while Genji becomes completely occupied with checking his phone. He's stripped down most of his plating, face barren, and even more than Mccree has ever seen- a fair portion of the helmet is removed as well- and hell, the cyborg has a tuft of unusually green hair underneath. All else is covered by a thick toque, the metal 'ears' at the sides pricking holes through the knitting,. The rest of him is dressed with a decorated hoodie and tight pants; he looks like a rowdy teenager. It isn't as if he's trying to hide the fact he's augmented so heavily, but like he's casual about it. Mccree wonders now why Genji wouldn't just dress like this all the time, thinks about asking. When people pass by, however, he watches his cybernetic friend hitch in his phone-work, nervously look at eye over to them. In this place, of omnics and other people(though none quite as heavily affected) who'd been enhanced mechanically, he might get a few glances, but overall, none who come by ask or care. The man working the kitchen gives him a curious eyebrow raise, but the cowboy shuts him down, shaking his head, 'no'. No one else pushes further than this.

            Mccree doesn't need to ask before Genji responds, quiet and leaning towards him. “I feel fake.”

            “Thought you got over that.”

            “No, it's opposite to that. I mean, I feel fake trying to dress up like this.”

            “Yeah, alright, I get it.” Sort of, at least. Enough he isn't entirely confused. “I'm gonna assume no news on your man.”

            “Mn, you are right. Someone seems to think they saw him but no one is being direct.” He rests his hand on his chin, sighing and staring at the foreign text on his phone. “Yesterday I was given more solid evidence than this. I am very much worried I am too late.”

            “D'you got a picture I can gawk at?”, he hadn't thought about that, honestly, Mccree himself thinking he would just keep an eye out for a Genji looking motherfucker- but between the scars and how widely different some brothers can look, it's not a great start. The phone slips under his nose a moment later- it's not a good picture, but he gets the gist of it, and if the cowboy was to count his memory correct, he swears it's already familiar.... He has a very distinctive haircut, and the /tattoo/. If he was wearing anything that bore any level of his arm, the marksman could spot it from a mile away. “Alright, I'm gonna go for a walk then. Call me if you get anythin' else.”

            “What? You're just going to-”

            “Yeah, I'm gonna take a look around. More people are givin' me a stare then they're givin' you.”

            “.. You do look like a stupid American.”

            Mccree sets a hand down on his head, pulling down the hat a bit more. “I /am/ a stupid American.”

            However, Hanzo is looking out for a heavily augmented dead brother stalking him. He is not, or probably is not, keeping an eye out for a cowboy. So far no luck, but just standing on a crowded corner, he's getting a lot more lookers than Genji ever was. It's a mix of his get-up and his height that seems to give him all the attention- more than once now he's taken selfies with overeager young girls enthralled by his exotic niche.

            His eyes are on the highest alert, still. It's an old talent of his, when working, to catch every face in the crowd, a unique skill he'd been apparently born with but was honed deadly from another old marksman's teaching. Throwing himself in the limelight was more than a task to his ego, or even to make a crowd. Once before, he's already met this man. There was a bounty on the sharpshooters head, you see. He'd made a few trips to Japan in the past with no incidents- it seemed his bounty was of no concern to the residents here(he wasn't about to stick around forever to test his luck), but for a period of time in Canada, an archer had given him a rough time. He was good with faces. The cowboy wonders if the archer is good with faces too, or even cares to try to collect on him despite being pinned down himself.

            Migrating street to street, he's not really making a scene, but he isn't hiding. A couple times he even asks the natives who actually speak in well enough English the kind of people they've seen around here, if anyone stuck out quite like he did- and a couple times they respond with 'yes'. One time it was Genji, accidentally, having seen him in the shop earlier, but a few others were more leads. A couple dead ends. Mccree's in the middle of a conversation when he looks up at a roof, and spots it. From a distance, they lock eyes. He's in a window well, and Jesse has his phone in hand, covered in pocket and desperately ringing Genji- he can't see to text him but hopes when he calls and hears nothing it will rouse the cyborgs suspicion enough to come find him. He hasn't broken eye contact with him yet- in the darkness and the back lighting, he can't exactly tell what the other man is doing, but Mccree positions himself with the innocent bystanders between them. If, by chance, the archer fires, he will keep them safe, but he hopes the bluff enough will keep any arrows away from his vicinity until he later. Unfortunately the bluff makes the archer move position, breaking from the hardened stare of the cowboy, and he's off like a bat out of hell in chase- but he fakes it as a flee, leaving two very confused Japanese teens behind in a fluster.

            He's taking the bait, sort of, keeping it at more of a distance then last time, not exactly going in all the places Jesse would've liked him to take, but enough in that he's finally able to bring his phone to his head- “Heck, please tell me you're still here-”

            “Yes, I am, but I don't know how you expected me to find you!”

            “I dunno, robot intuition! I'm close by to that big store with the stupid glowing sign-”

            “Do you know how /VAGUE/ that is?!”

            “/YES I KNOW/ how vague that is, Genji, but I can't really read street signs, can I? You ain't ever actually taught me any Japanese, even though you kept sayin' you would.”

            “You were busy! Why do you sound so winded? Did you chase him?!”

            “No, he's chasin' /me/.”

            “.. Why would he be chasing you?!”

            “Because, like most men, your brother likes /money/.”

            “.. What?!”, but it's too late, he spots movement on the rooftop again, sees the man dart into an open window to a building nearby. If he can keep him holed up in there until he can figure a way to get Genji his position....

            It's not easy to break into the industrial building the archer had taken residence in, but he's desperate and all his old training was coming back to him in waves. He hopes at least that he has acted quick enough that the other man still thinks he's outside- but he's forced to creep slowly through the halls, listening for signs of movement. He nearly pisses his pants when a cat, of all things, slips behind a corner, nearly shooting off a round in its vicinity out of instinct. Why was his gun even in his hand- if he /shot/ the elder Shimada, he swears Genji would never let him live it down. Literally. The cyborg ninja would just kill him, then and there, and he would not blame him.

            But he can't stay worried about Genji trying to kill him when was a bit to occupied in the now of the other Shimada trying to complete the task instead. Something startles him again- a chirp in his ear, a woman's voice. “Agent Mccree, your comms are of no use when you do not turn them on fully.”

            “... I don't like the whine it puts in my ear.”

            “And I do not like having to multitask. “

            He doesn't even respond again to poor Athena, slapping a hand up to his ear to click the earpiece to the proper frequency. It's been years, YEARS since he had one, and even then he was notorious for leaving the thing off when working. In this moment, however, he recalls the tracking the device has, and while only Mei has the monitor for it to tell them both where they were, it was better than a whole lot of nothing.

            “You're an idiot!”

            “I can't believe you ain't even ask me if it was on before I left.”, Mccree mumbles, from discretion to the situation and embarrassment.

            “I am sorry if it did not cross my mind to ask?! I am very close now, should I come in through a door or a window.”

            “I used to forget all the time, how did you not think- the window, he came in through a window and I came in downstairs. I don't even know if he's still /in/ here.” The sharpshooter is entering a room now, suspiciously with the door open. The archer must've went through it before and into the hall, so Mccree slips in to guard himself inside for a bit longer.

            God, he swears he isn't this rusty. Maybe it's a mix of his brain relaxing in the base earlier in the week, or the nice dinner he had with Genji. He'll like to blame everything but his own mess of a brain. The feeling of being watched sinks into him, but he's all the way to the open window before it comes to light. An arrow screams through the open air, and he whips around to catch it in the armor rather than the back, but it's flying towards the hastily closed door- it knocks itself into the joint of it, making it difficult to reopen.

            The room is dark and open, but there isn't /that/ many places to hide, and what was he waiting for, anyways, locking them both in here for the moment. Mccree's kind of bounty was a 'dead or alive' sort of arrangement, and the archer had no hesitation for aiming to kill beforehand. He could spend all night wondering, but instead he rolls back towards the door, tossing out a flashbang to the most assumed corner. Out of nervous humour, and to update Genji on his dire straits, he barks into the comm while jamming on the stuck door, “Door stuck, DOOR STUCK.”

            “What do you mean door stuck, what is going on?”

            “I BEG YOU.”

            “Stop meme-ing at me while you die, you idiot! I am nearly there!”

            His guess is right, at least, he can hear the man stumbling around back there now, but another arrow whips by his head before he pries the first one from its clogging position. Mccree remembers also that his aim didn't used to be this bad before, but then again, he did just hit him with a violent explosion of light. It feels like forever before he gets the door unstuck, throttling himself into the hallway. He could try firing back some at this point, he thinks, but there's an advantage in the enemies weapon in the silence of it- or at least, the silence in comparison to his revolver. It was 'run until Genji shows up' time. The fight wasn't really his in the first place- and if the other man is as close as he says he is, there's nowhere for Hanzo to go anymore. If this was Hanzo. There was some hilarity to be had at the thought he'd spent his night avoiding a complete stranger. 

            There's one open window in the building Mei describes before him, Mccree's signature making a wild run to the far side. Genji slips through it much like his brother had before, their adeptness in wall climbing being none surprising. At the door the man stands, and the ninja leans down in the window frame- he's still wearing the clothes from before, but he's masked once more before the elder Shimada. There would be no inside jokes for later- it /is/ him, and he gazes upon his brother in annoyance but not confusion as expected. He shakes his head when he tries to focus on his brother's silhouette, but can't seem to make it, blinks hard and waves a hand over his face. He's still seeing stars from the cowboy's last ditch efforts.

            “ _-Well, did you learn a lesson about trying to fight an American cowboy?-_ ”, he speaks in Japanese, they both converse in their native tongue for the duration of the conversation.

            “ _-Ha, hardly. He cheats. And who are you to confuse me, to think you were a man who fought for justice. Do you know that man, or did you just hire him to help you.-_ ”Genji can't help but notice the way his brother speaks- it's different from when they were younger, almost as if he speaks in accent now. Japanese was no longer his most common speech.

            They're both walking on broken glass; when the younger Shimada steps to the floor he approaches low and from the side, giving him a wide circle of birth. He speaks calm and quiet, “ _-I am very familiar with this man. More familiar then you. Any stories you have heard are false.-_ ”

            “ _-I hardly want to believe anything you say. Why have you come again? You left me in peace before to recently, ghost.-_ ”

            “ _-I meant to give you more time, brother, I am sorry. However circumstances have changed since then, and I noticed that you refused to move on from this place as quick as you have in the past.-_ ”

            “ _-Not to my pleasure. And you admit now so boldly you've been watching me for years.-_ ”

            “ _-What else would you expect of me. I wanted to kill you one day.-_ ”

            “ _-Ha! But you did not. Please,-”,_ he spreads his arms apart, bow still in the hand but positioned submissively, “ _-the favour you might do for me from before still stands.-_ ”

            The cyborg replies with a hushed sigh- but his brothers hand is on the door now, and he's moving to open it and slip away. “ _-Stay. You have no room to move here.-”_

            “ _-So you might think. If you expect me to understand why you would spare me now, I expect you to understand why I have no desire to go quietly with you in affection.-_ ”

            He forgets. It's stressful to face this ghost, his ghost- there's too much of his mind that still thinks he's simply gone insane, and the visage ahead of him is a simple hallucination, conjured by years of self-torture. The archer had even shrugged off the faithful night of his yearly routine as just that, a mirage of the past, until he had heard whispers of the dragons fighting on the balcony. A strong pang of regret that he'd even summon them for such a lowly task, that condemned him in the moment now. The yakuza here had no intentions of letting him go after such a display of power. Genji lets him back out the door, he doesn't look behind him until he hears a gun cock, feels it press against his skull. His eyes lid, slow, face twisting into a sneer. He still replies to his brother in the room in Japanese, keeping the American from the conversation, _“-Yes, he's such a pillar of good will, isn't he.-”_

_“- You were trying to shoot him.-”_

            “You doin' good, Genji?”

            “Yes, Mccree, I am fine. We were just talking.”

            “Makin' sure. Looks a bit like you man here was just trying to slip out the door. Lucky I came back upstairs, hmn.”

            Hanzo's expression is dull in his growing acceptance of failure, but he isn't facing the sharpshooter, and it's that fault that muddies the coming scene. When he lifts his bow back in the air, it's sharp and irritated, but he's moving to sling it over his shoulder. Mccree, however, takes it like he's about to hit him in the face with it. Maybe Hanzo is hoping in a jolting motion, he will slip with his trigger finger then and solve the awkward situation for him, but instead of a bullet, the air receives an abrupt clunk of metal on skull. His human hand was occupied with holding the gun, and on instinct between not wanting to shoot the man but still wanting to defend himself, he punches with the remaining robotic, probably harder then he'd intended too. The elder Shimada drops like rag doll- Mccree barely grasps onto his yukata before he clatters to the floor, saving Hanzo's skull a second thrashing from hitting the floor.

            Genji is swearing up a storm instantaneously, leaping an impossibly quick jump between the space of them- out of rage he rams the cowboy out of the way and replaces him to hold the elder Shimada. There's no offense taken to the action, honestly, the cowboy is immediately kicking himself in the ass over it, but, “What, he wasn't supposed to just LET me punch him! I have /fought him before/, he is a legendary fucking assassin.“

            “Why did you punch him at all? He was giving up!”

            “He was lookin' to hit me with that stupid bow of his.!”

            “He was not, he was putting it aside- _-Mn, Hanzo, rise.-_ ” Genji holds his head up in his hand, feeling tension return to the man below him. When his eyes open, the cyborg isn't comforted by the look of utter disorientation he gives him. It's even worse she he mumbles to him, slapping a hand up to the cyborgs robotic face and pressing it away from him. He rolls away onto his stomach- but braces up on his elbows and wheezes, making no effort at that point to fully rise himself from the floor. “Shit, Jesse! How are we supposed to get him back to the plane, stupid?” 

            “.. I'll carry him? He don't look that heavy.” Hanzo's mumbling into the tile, it's hard to tell whether Jesse can't figure what he's saying because he's mumbling or because it's Japanese, but he's going to guess the latter when Genji recoils his hand at a particularly heated segment of his floor tirade.

            “What, just, all the way back?”

            “.. We can get a cab. Just say he drank too much.”

            “He's bleeding, Mccree, they are going to question that... I feel like you've done this before. ”

            “I sure have, and you are wholly overestimatin' how much a cabbie cares about anythin'. Just keep the blood off the seats. Come on, up now.”, he leans down, grabbing the man at his wrists, and while he thrashes for a moment, Mccree doesn't take no for an answer, and ends up with him slung over a shoulder. “Don't fall off now.”

            The cab idea works well enough. It's mostly because Hanzo plays along, sort of, having to stop the car at least once to wretch out the side of the door. Genji has since slipped his undershirt off, and has the archer pressing it against his own wound to stifle the blood enough to keep it off the seats, as instructed. Mccree mumbles to his comrade, who is still quite a bit mad at him, “Guess we shoulda waited for Mercy.”

            His statement gifts him a solid punch to the arm, and he knows he deserves it. “It is entirely your fault. I had almost collected myself from you nearly getting killed before and you manage to still make things difficult.”

            “Yeah, I know, I fuck up a lot.” The cowboy wants to lean his head back and rest for the short drive back to the airport, but he's taken the task of poking the elder Shimada every time his consciousness wavers.

            “Ah- no, it is not like that. I do not mean to be so harsh.” It catches the cowboy off guard when so suddenly the cyborg takes back his statement, turning his tone to apology. The rest of the drive is silent from that point, apart from the occasional heavy sigh from the wounded man as he attempts to collect himself from every bout of sparing consciousness.

            Genji sends Angela a text the moment they usher the confused and dizzy onto the plane, settling him down to lay in the corridor of the seats instead of forcing him to sit. It's very awkward he has contact her now too, because from this point, she was probably entirely unaware that they were away from the compound at all. 'Really, Genji, I am not that much older than you, I do not know why I am having to be like a mother in this situation. We're back in Gibraltar ourselves now, but we had a fair share of problems on our end. Yes, I will have time to see your brother, though I am going to want a /full/ explanation for this when you arrive. If he sleeps, rise him every two or so hours to make sure he rises. Put something cold on his head where Mccree hit him. Do you have any medical supplies at all? Does it require stitches?' 

            All very legitimate answers and questions. Every one sinks in his stomach to have wasted her time on such a thing. It doesn't matter how many times Mccree tells him that she's a doctor, for christ's sake, a heavily gifted doctor, and that she doesn't /really/ mind helping them out of their stupid problems. All he can do it sit and wait for them to get home, now. Though Mccree offers, Genji takes the duty of jostling his brother awake every few hours to make sure he does. At least he wasn't dead. At least he wasn't gravely injured. At least he didn't, he didn't seem to hate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my SO dared me to meme, please forgive


	4. ch4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bad dragon, stop trying to fistfight the doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for forced sedation.

   It's a good earful from Winston and Tracer when they return- but there's a unwritten rule in 'no harm, no foul', and as per to the plan, no one was caught in action. Sure, stories about a cowboy in downtown, but nothing lingered. No police presence. 'You're off the hook this time, boys, but now I'll be keepin' a better eye on you now!', none of the two new impromptu Overwatch leaders can stay mad. It's in neither of their personality- and they both knew Genji long and well enough to trust his judgment.

   Not to mention that they don't want to keep the three of them occupied when they have a ~feisty~ injured on board. Winston takes notes of his name, adds him to files, obtains a begrudged fingerprint. He hasn't spoken- and they're half concerned about possible damage to his rattled brain, but also aware that it's more likely his personality. Either way, the ape ushers them off to the medbay to get barked at by Angela as well, and that she is who is dealing with the 'jail' area of the watch point, if there is where they decide the man would stay. Hanzo is a 'criminal' in their building for the time being, but they don't cuff or restrain him- for the sake of posturing, Mccree has a fierce grip on his upper arm. It's a good reminder against any thoughts of fleeing, but also for when the archer occasionally wobbles. They doubt the man would fake the weakness.

   “You! You child,” she's aware of his coming arrival, immediately whapping the cyborg upside the head with rolled up sheets of paper.

   Weakly he responds with quiet screaming, apologizing, “Dr. Ziegler, please. Everything is fine, haven't you already heard from Winston?”

   “Ha, you can appease him with your silver tongue, but I am much trickier than that! Mccree, how could you, even after I told you about-.. ahem, you know what, you keeping a secret from me.”, she turns her attention for a moment, reaching up to give the tallest a solid head whapping as well. She's obviously more focused on Genji, having the error made of both kept a secret mission AND bringing his fratricidal brother home. Speaking of the elder Shimada, Mccree still has him gripped about the arm- but the cowboy takes casual note at how Hanzo forces away from his robotic grasp, shifts behind the cowboy more, and shrinks in the presence of the medical bay. Still chastising the other brother, the good doctor doesn't notice the archer's hesitation. Angela is too busy being preoccupied with lightly violencing the cyborg while he begs forgiveness.

   “My apologies, I had tried to talk to you first, but you became occupied with an actual mission.”

   “Genji, you could've told me afterward the meeting-”

   “And you would've fretted and been distracted.”

                                                

   She pouts, folding arms in front of her chest. “You act as though I have not been a very capable medical professional for many years, and in /Overwatch/. Multitasking is not lost to me.”

   “And I am sure you would have been fine and successful, but are you not glad to have had to think about it?”

   “No, instead I had to worry while I was actually working.”

   The argument breaks for a moment for Genji to peer over towards the guarded curtains across the room- and too Fareeha, large and in charge. She'd been behind the curtain earlier, but came out to stare down the interlopers. “I have not heard of what exactly went down. Was the pick-up badly injured in the scuffle?”

   She stops, remembering. Her eyes flick between the two of them, newfound nervousness. “Winston did not tell?”

   “... No? Should I be worried?”

   “...nevermind that for now then!“, she leans around Mccree, whose arm is quite a bit forced back behind him now, leaving the two of them hypocritically in the dark about what had happened to her the nights before. “Well, you're still standing, so I am going to assume that means you are fine, Mr. Shimada, but I would like to be sure.”

   She catches his eyes, and the two men see her expression falter. The cowboy tilts his head backwards to his captive, and sure he was expecting apprehension with how badly he was twisting from his grip, but was holding it up to him being a a skittish prick. Genji is the last to catch his face, having to physically step a few to the side.

   It was something Angela and Mccree had seen before, Genji less so. It was completely reasonable for the kidnapped man to be apprehensive, irritable even- but they're met with the glassy eyed look of unbridled fear. The prideful Shimada had held his head so high beforehand, and in their youth, Genji's brother had no dread in going to the doctor... But it had been fifteen or so years since then. First and foremost, the cowboy releases his arm, taking a step back and letting the doctor assess the situation better.

   When the younger brother tries to push forward towards his sibling, Mercy stops him short, pushing herself between the two. She watches Hanzo's, eyes glued to her, when he backs up away from her approach, free of the cowboy's grasp and into a nearby table of set out tools- they were set out for him, prepared for stitches, for the wound on his head that would surely reopen soon. “It’s fine, Hanzo, what is wrong.”, she's trying to get close enough to touch an arm, reaffirming, but he's having none of it. Her earlier distaste for the man fell off in an instant, remembering only her passion for the medical field, but it doesn't seem to calm the archer in this moment.

 

   He responds to her approach with a bluff charge- taking rough step forward and sweeping an arm forward- he isn't going to punch her yet, but he's saying 'I will'. Genji attempts to put himself back between them, guarding, but she raises her palms in defiance, breaking eye contact with the older Shimada, and rescinding her steps forwards. “Alright, let’s just take a step back, then.”

   The doctor doesn't turn her back to him, but steps backwards towards the exit of the infirmary- and with a hand motion, beckons the other two to follow. Fareeha has since absconded behind the curtain to her charge, and they're ignored despite the quiet conversation going on in the back. Genji hesitates, masked gaze flicking between the two, but Mccree doesn't, and pulls the cyborg towards the door. Hanzo isn't looking back- his eyes are fixed still on the doctor despite her non-combative response.

   It's even more too unnerving for him once they've left; it's quiet, it smells, it's unfamiliar- out of building anger, an arm punches out backwards and towards the tray, toppling what hadn't been toppled before to the floor. He would've been certain once they'd let him be, to stand and collect himself, that his rage would subside- but it /doesn't/, and if he had the conscious to think about it, he wouldn't be surprised.

   “Hey.”

   Hanzo startles and jumps at the sudden interruption to his mental train of thought- how he hadn't noticed the other man's approach was beyond him. The man from the other side of the medbay, behind the curtain. The elder Shimada doesn't reply, or can't reply, but gives him an exasperated look, gesturing wide with his hands.

   “Sit down.” Hanzo's eyes narrow, lip curling into a snarl. “Look,” the older man signals to himself, “I'm just a patient here too, caught and imprisoned.”

   The archer's eyes linger down and over the older man. He's looking quite a bit more war torn than the 'minor' wounds Hanzo has; his torso is bare and bandaged about the midsection, inner arm marked with very recent needle tracks... but, but he is in good spirits. Awake and recovering. After a few long but patient moments of thought, a hand lingers down to the bed frame beside him, rubbing over its surface in tempt.

   “Lay down, face first, put your face in the pillow.” That's a strange request, but he complies, sighing and grumbling. His temper actually starts to dip, his head hurts, it's hard to focus- but he's sure if the female returns, he will dip straight into rage again, no matter how reassuring the other man presents himself to be. Jack knows it, too, how tense the other man is even as he slinks onto the cot, his hands shake beneath him, tucked beneath his chest to force himself up the moment the perceived threat returns. The older man slips a hand onto his back, pressing down, and waits for the doctor to return.

\---

   She, however, is busy shoving Genji out the door of the office with Mccree. “Angela, wait, I do not understand- he never used to be like this.”

   “Well, it has been a while since you last knew him, and I can see that.. 'look' in his eyes. Shush, stay out here till I say so.”

   “What? I'm sure I can assist-”

   “No, it will only get him more riled up, and you will only get in my way.”

   “Get in your way?... What are you going to do to him?”

   “I ain't gonna get in your way....”, Mccree pokes in, noncommittal to actually returning.

   “See, and you thinking I'm going to 'do something' to him is exactly why you are going to stay outside. Mccree, you are outside because you're going to watch Genji.”

   “Yes ma'am.”, he flicks his hand around the cyborgs arm much as he had been doing to his brother earlier, saluting the doctor while she turned to head back into the office.

   “Bu- what, wait, no I... Aaarrhh...”, it's a lost battle- not literally, he could overpower the cowboy with grace, but it's obvious minds were made up, and he won't get caught undermining the medics skills.

\---

   Oh, thank god. She's expectant to have to return and settle all things herself, having to wrangle a dragon /again/, but hopeful that either Fareeha or, uncomfortably enough Jack might assist. Peering through the observing window in the separating door, she spots the older man leaning above Hanzo- he'd gotten him into bed, unsurprising to her. It's hard to open the old door quietly, and even harder to tiptoe in her shoes, but her old commander has Hanzo well distracted, for now, as he'd known well to be distracting, and it isn't until the very last moment that the panicking man notices Mercy's approach- she's able to stab him in the ass before he can fully lift his body from its lay. However, the sedative is not anything that will work instantly, especially with how riled Hanzo is and how she has to do it. With experience and with Morrison's weighted help, she dodges the incoming kick, and backs away in wait. Mercy spots Fareeha from the corner of her eye, peering out and mouthing, “ Need help?”, to which she replies with a look towards the two men having a one sided fight. The older man is mostly letting Hanzo thrash, speaking softly, ' Stop stop stop, shh.', but not letting him remove himself from the bed; he's settling high sat and crammed into the pillow side and the wall, crowded away from the both of them with face of embarrassed rage. Mercy shakes her head, no, just wait a bit. It settles into silence as a few minutes pass for the drugs to take hold; Hanzo's aggression fades, and he slips back down into the now very torn up sheets.

   “He told me it would be fine, simple, haaa. I should know better.” the doctor mumbles under her breath, reasserting herself into the situation now that the dragon was quiet and well sedated. A towel is thrown over his face, breaking his visual concentration from her. “That would've been much more troublesome by myself, thank you.”

 

   Jack's a bit wheezy, but still up to tugging the limp other lying flat. “Always happy to help Angela. Who's this then?” The other woman who'd been lying in wait joins them now, helping with muscle but remaining quiet.

   “Ah, that's a bit of a fun story. It's Genji's brother, Hanzo, who /apparently/ has no history of doctor related violence.“ She speaks the last half bitterly, chuckling at the apparent fallacy.

   “ .. didn't he try to kill him.”

   “And you know, that's what /I/ said, but in his turning over a new leaf, it seems Genji thinks his brother deserves the sympathy. I won't question it until he does something particularly devious in front of me, I suppose.”

   “.. This doesn't count?”

   “I’d think not... I can't hold panic against him. Remember what it was like to get Jesse into the medbay? Hmn, maybe you wouldn't, that was more of a Reyes thing to know. Jesse was /terrible/.”, she shakes her head, laughing at the thought again, but faltering when she remembers who she'd mentioned. Reyes. Despite her falter and the wide eyed stare towards the man, he doesn't openly question it. He can't see her face, anyways.

   “Eh, I sort of remember. Shh, sit down you.”, even though the man is very much pacified, he occasionally rises from his drug induced slumber, swearing under his breath and pushing up from his prone position. It doesn't do much but earn him a solid press back down. “ At least this gives you a better chance to do a full medical without the awkwardness, huh?”

   “Well, it would never be awkward for me, and this will be much more awkward for him later- but you are right, this is easier.” Mercy pulls his right arm out and away from him, prepping him for intravenous, as he'd be here for quite a while now. She spots now also, that his fingers look rough, rougher then what was implied over the phone; when after prying and inspecting, ones almost certainly broken. Her tongue clicks, head shaking in exasperation.

   “What? Find something worse already..?”

   “Of course I did. I'll have to deal with it later, but it's no wonder he acted so aggressively.” She sighs, cracking her knuckles in sympathy, before leaning down to grab the discarded tools, replacing what needed to replaced since having been on the dirty floor- reassembling herself with practiced rush despite having all the time in the world now. Fareeha replaces Jack at the holding point, but he lingers for the conversation, leaning back on a nearby waiting chair. Hanzo is all but dead at this point.

   His hair is matted with two days of travel and blood, but it's nowhere near the worst. She laughs internally at the fist indent, rubs a finger over the bump in his skull. The two kidnappers had expressed their worry for the man before, him having been sick a bit after the initial punch to the head, but his reaction more recently sways her to believe any other interaction they had afterward was just Hanzo's personality.... She'd do a scan later just in case.

   “ .. Does he just have metal boots on, or...?”

   Her concentration isn't broken by the conversation, still dutifully cleaning and preening out a spot on his skull enough to stitch the now, as predicted, reopened wound. “Genji says he thinks they are prosthetic, that he had his legs before their untimely fight, and that their removal was not caused by him- so I am lingering towards the thought it might be related to his mood swing. “

   Jacks' nose scrunches, thinking. “You think he got traumatized just from getting his legs off? Genji isn't afraid of the infirmary, and you replaced his damn entire body.”

   “It depends on the doctor.”, her eyes linger down to his legs for the moment- they're shiny and well built, but from a different designer then she had seen before. “He wasn't exactly scared of the hospital in general, he was scared of /me/.”

   “ .. Huh. I guess you were my doctor for so long, I forgot bad doctors exist.”

   “Aha, why do you flatter me.”

   “'Cause I don't want your mood to fade.”

   “I... appreciate that, Jack, but I've dealt with unruly patients for years. Like I had said, this is not the worst man I've dealt with. He actually settled down eventually; I have had aggressive and unhappy fellows enough they burned straight through sedation and nearly choked me to death.”

   “Heh, I guess it was a sign when he actually laid down when I told him too.”

   “And that is why I am putting my trust on Genji's word that despite his past, this man has some redeeming quality to him, even though they haven't spoken in years. I don't know. Since we captured, uh, 'Reaper', I have honestly just been trying to go with the flow?”

   “I'm not helpin' much with that.”

   “No, no you are not. “, her words are both for Jack's existence in not being dead- but also because he keeps allowing the aforementioned Reaper stalk him while he stays in the infirmary. /She/ is aware that Reaper is the previously mentioned Gabriel Reyes, but Morrison's tone and ignorance of the subject leaves her to believe that he is not, and is simply letting the ghost around for perverse humour.

   The conversation dies from that point to let the doctor work unobstructed. She does as suggested, getting a more comprehensive look at his injuries- both hands are damaged from some kind of impact, but fortunately enough despite the heavy bruising, the worst doesn't appear to be fractured. The most injured right is flexed and bandaged anyways, splinting it as a preventative. His legs are false below the knee, but are a type integrated heavily into his existing flesh- there isn't a way to remove them that she can find, but they don't appear to be detrimental to their host. They should look at repairing them for wear and tear at a later date.

   Hanzo is left to rest and burn through the drugs for the rest of the night. When Angela rises the next morning, Jack has left for his own designated quarters, after- as retold to her by Fareeha- he'd had a long, awkward conversation with herself and Reyes. It's so very, very relieving to hear that her old commander is well and gone on his own, and that there was no more secret to be kept. Any lingering feelings of anxiety over her two commanders existing in the same space despite their past is overshadowed by kicking out her last patient- for now.

   Angela is tired while she works, enough so that she's startled when she looks to Hanzo's face and his eyes are wide open and staring at her. He's still in the bare lingering remains of sedation, well over it enough to easily overpower her- but she trusts that he won't. Slipping the IV from his arm, she breaks the silence while stuffing it over with bandage, gently bringing his other hand to the wound to stem his own bleeding. “This is how this is going to work. I'm going to leave here in a minute, and when you feel well to stand, you are going to walk out that door there. I will be at my desk, and you can walk past me and into the hall. If you wait long enough, I won't be at my desk anymore. Yes?”

   After a moment of confused blinking, he nods, hums a note of agreement, and she smiles. To her word, she finishes to tape the bandage to him, and with a hum, slips out the front door. It takes him a good two hours, but sure enough, she hears the door creak. With great care, however, she does not look up from her vidscreen, getting herself caught up with his files, actually. There's a few quiet pats of feet on floor, before many hurried pats, and the main door from her office slams open with force. Yeah, alright.


	5. ch5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well now that that's over lets just walk until i can't feel my legs anymore
> 
> also, drinking is never the solution.

   And now he's lost in enemy territory. He can't ask that woman for help, for his damn subconscious is a mistress of stupidity, but he's been given no direction; for slightly too long he stands in front of the door, stuck in indecision. It's too familiar when his upper arm is grasped- gentler then yesterday, and his vision flicks over to, oh good, the /outlaw/. Hanzo's eyes narrow on him, sneering.

   “Lookin' a little lost there, darlin'.”

   “What else would I be. Where am I even?” Mccree is surprised when he responds with the tenor of a man who hadn't just pissed himself about the doctors, but he won't mention it.

   “Guess you're right, I apologize. You're in Europe, an old Overwatch base in Gibraltar.”, no reason not to be honest.

   “.. Okay. Where is the cyborg?”

   Mccree can't help but give him a returned sneer when he replies like that, arms crossing over his chest. “If you're gonna call him that, why even bother lookin'.”

   “..I don't know how familiar you are with him?”

   “What, you think I'm a prisoner here like you?”

   “/I/ know you as an outlaw.”

   It's true. He is a criminal to the outside world- but so is Hanzo. Just maybe, not as infamously. “/Genji's/ in his room, tryin' not to think about the doctor torturing you.”, he regrets wording it like that the moment he says it, cold fear lingering in his eyes as he looks back towards the still very nearby closed door. “Ah heck, the doctor /don't/ torture people. Do you feel tortured?”

   “… Depends?”

   Mccree shakes his head, before turning off to lead the man elsewhere. “Depends on /what/.”

   He doesn't want to go with him, but where else does he go? The grip on his arm falters when there's hesitation, not interested in dragging the elder Shimada around, but keeps hold when he finally moves to walks along side. “I am taken from my home and stripped of my autonomy. “

   “.. Yeah, I can see how that's distressin'.” His gaze lingers across the man in a quick sweep- from the shaving and stitched side of his head, to the forced stiff and bandaged fingers of his hand. His hand...? “... When didja hurt your hand?”

 ”Before you /stole/ me? I injured myself and your doctor none last night.”

   “.. Darn, I'd seen your hands bein' a bit rough but I didn't think... Sorry.”

   Mccree swallows down a chuckle when the other man's face contorts into disgust, “Don't give me your pity for this. This whole situation. It's misplaced.”

   “I can't help but notice you speak a nice bout a' English there, all verbose.”

   “Why wouldn't I.”

   “You live in Japan?”

   “.. I... don't live in Japan?? I am, 'from' Japan. All my enemies are in Japan. Why would I stay there?”

   “.. It's home..?”

   “Is that why you stayed in America despite your warrants? You are an idiot.”

   He's trying, trying to find something nice about this man his close friend was pretending to be brotherly for, but he thinks more and more that Genji's trust is being severely misplaced. Maybe he's still just testy from the doctor’s visit, and the injury. And the kidnapping. “Maybe. But it felt right.”

   “If feeling 'right' is what should make it home, then it still wasn't that.”, he mumbles, biting his lip and roughly pulling his arm from its capture. Mccree allows it, they are still walking together. They end up at a room, labeled with a number and from a row of doors in a hallway. The cowboy gestures Hanzo forward to it.

   “There, safe n' sound. Here's your 'cyborg', and he's waitin' for you. Are you ready?”

   “No.”, but he steps forwards anyways, sighing, letting the airlock slip open. It's dark inside, but he can tell what awaits.

   When the door closes behind him, Hanzo stands at the doorway for a while. He's sitting on the floor, his brother, legs crossed. His mask is off, but his eyes are closed, he is meditating. The focus he keeps is unhindered by the intrusion. Hanzo sinks back into old, long since remembered past habits, and kneels before him like he would for his shrine, and waits. He wouldn't know what to start to say even if he felt like he should speak first.

   _“-How's your head.-”_ Genji speaks in their native tongue, as Hanzo had back in Japan.

   “It is fine.”, but the brother returns in English, he doesn't question why, they continue the conversation in the language Hanzo is comfortable with.

   “How are your hands?”

   “Also fine.”, but he turns the casted one over in his lap, grasping it nervously.

   “How is your mind?”

   That's an awful question. He doesn't deign it to deserve a worded response, Hanzo simply scoffs, wrinkling his nose at his sibling.

   “I apologize. I had truly meant to give you more space.”

   “But you worried for my safety.”

   “Yes.”

   “You hadn't worried before.”

   “It is a new feeling. I am glad you lasted all these years by yourself for me to come around.”

   “But nothing would be different if I had not.”

   “It would have. “

   “What? We would not be here, having this horrible conversation.”

   “Is it that bad? This isn't meant to be a punishment.”

   He wanted to say, 'well it feels like punishment', but he holds it back. It doesn't, really. He isn't wounded in a terrible hide away. He isn't on the run struggling with his own mind plagued by ghosts. The base doesn't exactly scream 'safe' to him just yet, but.. It was something? Hanzo finds it odd when his brother lets the silence of his thoughts linger for so long. “Much has changed from our youth.”

   “You seem quite a bit the same, albeit even more standoffish then you were in the past. Would you tell me why the doctor bothered you so, brother?”

   “... no.”, and Genji didn't really expect him to.

   “Would you tell me what happened to your legs?”

   “I broke it.”

   “...”Broke 'it', singular leg despite having two prosthetics. He's worded it that way on purpose. “Broke it doing what?”

   “I fell off a building attempting to scale it while fleeing.”

   Genji tries not to giggle, thinking about his brothers words for a long few moments. “It was unrepairable?”

   “No.” That was the last answer he needed to bring the train of thought together, gaining the answer to his first question- though in a very roundabout fashion. Genji is about to respond again when Hanzo mumbles to finish, “It would not happen again if done preventatively.” It sealed the deal on his guess,

'mean doctor took my legs'. It must've been a more jarring experience then his brother lets off, but their upbringing forces him to be prideful and hide his weakness. Genji won't pry it further from his brother.

   “Alright, you do not need to tell me more, I understand.”

   “You probably do.” The older sibling has been taking the time to observe his brother's far more heavily augmented form. He's showing off the most human side of it, free of excess armor and mask, hair sticking gently to his forehead. Genji had been staring at the floor since he'd opened his eyes to his brother's entrance, but looks up to him now in the dark. For emphasis, he alights the green circles and lines about his body, proving to control them with his mind. It doesn't seem to comfort Hanzo, his eyebrows furrowing, but in the new light his gaze settles onto his brother’s face.

   “I have to ask you a... stupider, sort of question.”

   “Go for it.”

   “Why is your hair still green?”

   ... It breaks the tension in Genji like heated ice, cracking his sullen expression and escaping laughter he'd been able to keep inside before. The older Shimada does not join him in his laughter, but does not scoff him for it, either. “Aahhh.. It is synthetic. I had asked for it when being rebuilt. “, he raises a hand to the very realistic looking weave, lifting to show the hairline, and the seam where it meets his truer human flesh. “No more hair dye, mn?”

   For a moment, he swears, Hanzo is /trying/ to laugh. He can see his brothers nose crinkle in stress, mouth twitching- but it doesn't come. At the very least, he seems... humoured. “It follows the rest of your aesthetic, I suppose.” The lights of his body are all of a similar green hue, and they fade back into darkness for the moment. It isn't why the cyborg chose the green, but he's right, it all matches.

   “I could have it changed, but I have not seen a reason too.”

   “Do not change it if you do not want too.” There's more history to his response then what is seen on the surface level, and Genji takes it in stride. He'd once in their youth taken to dying his hair this brash colour, despite their father and the clans distaste for it. Hanzo had attempted to give him an ultimatum to remove it, but it never came through. “… but it is still stupid, and you should consider changing it.”

   Hardy har har. “Well, to our benefit, most people do not get to see it, so most people do not get to judge me for it.”

   The lighthearted mood fades from there, the older brother becoming weary and stressed from this long winded talk. His eyes shutter closed again, letting them sit in the dull rumble of the base. He tries to summon 'calm', but Hanzo doesn't catch on. When he finally breaks the silence and sighs, Genji speaks again, “There is a room for you three doors down from here, the door will be open for you. If you want to wander, feel free too.”, he palms a small object to his brother, which he takes, “Keep this in your ear while you are out. If you walk somewhere too far or where you are not allowed, a nice woman will tell you. Feel free to talk to anyone you meet, or don't.”

   The relief in him is palpable in the air. Hanzo rises, giving his brother a small bow, before retreating. Stopping at the door for a moment, he waits to catch any hesitation from the man on the floor, but there is none. Genji had said, he'd meant to give his brother space. There's no sense in pinning him up in his room to mentally berate him for days on end- he might've wanted that in the past, but he's moving on from that. He can only hope his elder sibling would keep returning to him for these talks.

   The hallway is quiet- and thank the gods that that stupid cowboy is not there waiting for him. Three doors down, sure enough, there is an empty room with an open door- and while at first he thinks to enter immediately and sit alone away his sorrows, it becomes a better idea that he actually take a walk to get a feeling for the bases layout. There had been a lot of napping done in the last couple of days.

   It's a. Deceptively large base. There are many rooms, unfilled and unused, dusty. Most any that showed signs of life were close to some center room, and the hallway him and Genji had been in earlier. It made sense, given that it appeared their little organization was on the dawn of revival. Testing boundaries, he went further through hallways then he would've thought was acceptable, but when that proved nothing, he instead went to the projected depth at the center of attention. Before a doorway, finally, a voice perks into his ear. Despite expecting it, he still jumps a bit.

   “Hello, Hanzo Shimada.” A woman's voice, like he was told.

   “... He was being entirely literal.” He speaks aloud for the commlink to hear, hands resting to his hips.

   “He was.”

   “Silence me if this is too curious, but I am confused as to how, already with limited numbers, this Overwatch would commit itself to one woman to guard its keep.”

 

   “One woman isn't entirely accurate, would be the most appropriate answer.”

   “Alright then, an omnic.”

   “Not quite.” It's jarring when the door behind him opens, even more so when a deep voice rumbles its inhabitant. When Hanzo turns to look at the interloper, Winston isn't surprised to watch the man raise his hackles to the sight of a gorilla interrupting him. Sure, Hanzo /vaguely/ remembers interacting with the scientist and apparent Overwatch current head a day or so ago, but there was a primary part of him that was taking the memory as some hallucination- and he's /heard the stories/ about the 'gorilla' in Overwatch being a force to be reckoned with around the globe, but..... Nope. Here he is, Hanzo now completely cognizant, and it's really a gorilla. Without batting an eye to the response the man, who he'd MET BEFORE, gives him, “We have an AI on base handling much of a security, Athena. It's super, super handy, seeing on how understaffed we are. It means you're free to get up to whatever you want while you stay here. How are you doing, by the way? Do you want to, uhm, re-shake hands and introduce yourself now that you're not half asleep?”

   He's a very patient ape to let him collect his thoughts. It has only been a day, and he had heard that Hanzo didn't take to the doctor very well, so he might be a bit too brain addled still. “Aah- no... Actually, sure.” Something flips in his demeanor, like he'd found the switch to his customer service face, softening and offering the larger man a hand. It engulfs his own, it's more like he shakes his finger, but the expression Winston gives is that yes, that is normally how you shake hands with a gorilla man. “Hanzo Shimada.”

   “Winston! Just Winston, no last names on the moon. I'd ask if you're feeling better, but Athena has told me you've made trip around just about every part of the grounds, so I feel like I'm safe to assume. Are you looking for something in particular?”

   “.. I won't lie to you, I was looking to see when the 'woman over the comms' would yell at me.”

   “Oh well, Athena will never 'yell' at you, but. Is that all you were after?” He seems very sincere, and a very weird fit for someone apparently spearheading the return of a dead organization. Then again, if the tales are true, the man was a powerhouse- both in a fight and in the mind as a inventor. He's making it work, and relations to those that may or may not end up in his ranks was never a bad thing. “I'm not about to hold any biases.”

   “.. If you want to do me a true favour...” Winston raises an eyebrow to wait for his response, expecting something unusual, “I.. Which of the showers here work well, and who could I ask for for a toothbrush.”

 

   He huffs out a chuckle, “Oh that is much simpler then I was expecting. I can get you both of those, and soap and a towel. Oh!” The scientist looks up over the shorter man’s head, to his injury, “ It looks like she's taped it off nicely, but don't get that too wet, I think.”

   “I will be careful, I have been injured before.”

   “Oh, I'm sure, I'm sorry for sounding dismissive.” Nevermind, Hanzo is understanding the scientists workings now. “Here, follow me, it's a good time of day no one else should be there.”

\---

   For the first time in a long time, things go nicely for a while. The Overwatch head gets him the few things he'd asked for without question, and leaves him be in the shower room. It's a big room, for many people, but it's well cleaned and maintained, so what's to complain. Other than how... open, it is. Nowhere really to hide. Hanzo will have to trust what Winston says before he leaves, 'there's nothing to worry about. Nothing physical, at least'. It's the append that catches him- for their time together, the gorilla played dumb towards the current emotional turmoil Hanzo harbored, only mentioning it as he leaves. To make it known he /was/ aware the issues being had. Just playing his cards right.

   During his entirely too long water adventure, he thinks to hearing a few people come in and out- but it is a bathroom as well, so it's not farfetched or worth getting worked up over. Call it intuition, but despite the several interruptions before, this last one, mn, felt fishy. Hanzo turns around just in time to see someone round the corner to the open slats of shower heads, the only one on being placed around the middle, and he knew it, he KNEW it would be the fake cowboy. Mccree looks like he was expecting to see someone else, blinking and staring down the wet, unenthused man for a few long seconds. The toothbrush is still hanging from his mouth- he'd been chewing on it out of frustration, and he doesn't remove it to bark, “Can I /do/ something for you?”

   It's immediate regret one the words leave his mouth, watching the other man’s expression turn from embarrassed surprise to something akin to being /sly/, pointing at him with his fingers like guns. It took all his effort not to bolt from his position and slaughter him where he stood, but instead he thinks to 'play along' with his game. Without hesitation, he turns fully towards him, one hand on his hip, and /stares/. It's apparently the winning move, and while he notes the cowboy swallows hard before he turns on heel back out, he feels satisfied in victory. However, the mood is ruined, and he /had/ been in the shower longer then recommended. The wound on his head is tender, but pppprobably fine. The cast on his hand he'd wrapped up in plastic at the assistance of Winston, but was nearing the end of its lifespan as well.

   Ok, maybe he hadn't won as much as he thought he had. Even though the water had stopped to insinuate his re-arrival into the change area, he's greeted to the sight of Mccree and the man who he'd has a fistfight with in the medical bay days earlier, sitting and chatting. Waiting for him. They're sitting by his towel. “You know, Genji said I was not supposed to feel trapped.”

   “What you feelin' trapped about.”

   “Do you often play dumb.”

   “He does, he always has.” Jack takes the hint, throwing the towel.. vaguely, towards him. Good enough reflexes, he catches it, barely.

   “Come'ere, I'm supposed to make sure you didn't ruin your head.”

   “I didn't.”, but he obliges anyways, loosely wrapping the towel around his midsection as he approaches and sits down beside. It isn't as if he's completely comfortable around the two men, but he's collected enough to take it in stride- and that there's a tiny thought that if he leaves it unchecked he'll have to go back there again and he... doesn't want to do that even more then he doesn't want to be in close vicinity to the cowboy.

   Mccree's a bit surprised at how relaxed he seems now, but showers were always super nice for him, so he can only assume a nice bit of the warm water melted Hanzo's rage substantially. He plies around the dark hair for a moment, silently mourning the length lost from the wound against the rest of it that lays wet and straight to his shoulders. “Nope, looks fine.”

   “I had no interest in requiring it to being seen again.”

   “Well, if you had someone done something, that's why I'm here.” Jack speaks, reaching a singular finger around to trace across the stitches.

   “What makes you think I trust you any more after...that.”

   “Well you just let me touch the wound, but maybe I'm making an assumption.” … He's right. No matter how much he'd like to hold the man who'd thwarted his 'escape' yesterday to the same standard he held the woman, he was unable.

   “You keepin' outta trouble?”

   “Hardly.”

   “Good to know. I was wonderin' a bit if you needed someone to show you around and then I turn up and find you'd just walked the whole place yourself.”

   “What do you care.”

   “Y'know I didn't care, but what I do care about is your brother, and he cares that you might be feelin' down by yourself.”

   “Do I look like I care whether or not I'm by myself?”

   “... I hate to tell you what you are and ain't feelin', Hanzo, but yeah, you do.”

   “And yet you feel the need to point it out so plainly.”

   “‘Guess I shouldn't?”

   “.. I don't know either of your names.”

   .. They both laugh a moment at the broken train of thought. “Jack, Jack Morrison.”

   “Jesse Mccree. Wait- you know my name, you tried to kill me for my bounty.”

   “I wasn't entirely sure if you had been using a pseudonym. It's funny to learn you hadn't.”

   “Oh, what, was it 'foolish' of me?”

   “You are a train wreck of decisions I would never make myself.”

   “Was I really that unpopular with the kids that my name doesn't turn heads? Did I get forgotten so quickly after I exploded?” Jack speaks with feigned sorrow, sighing.

   “You are a dead man, what is there to question.”

   “I am dead, aren't I.”

   “There's a reoccurring theme here. Anyone I might have known as dead is alive, and here to torment me. Any moment now, my father will turn the corner, and scold me for acting so weak before you.”

   “Hey man, this my one of my two fake dads, and sure enough, both came back from the dead to make fun a' me.”Mccree has his hand on the old man’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “.. I heard stories 'bout your dad though so I'm hopin' he don't show up.”

   “Genji spoke much of his past..?”

   “'Bout everything up to you. Kept real nice and quiet about you.”

   “That is not surprising. Are we done being awkward yet? Can I leave?”

   “Well I'm sure ain't ever gonna be done bein' awkward but yeah, get outta here.”

\---

   It's hard not to stare when he redresses, but Mccree manages. Without another word he leaves, to walk off his dreariness, Mccree might say. Once Hanzo's gone he snaps back to Jack, thinking to give him some choice words, but he's staring at himself in mirror. “.. What're you lookin' at, old man.”

   “The mirror.”

   “... Why're you playin' me stupid?”

   “Nevermind, Jesse. Are you going to have your shower or not.”

   “Now I don't feel like it.”

   “Don't let me ruin your mood. Well, didn't you want to talk to me? You messaged me in the first place.”

   “Heck I was just gonna ask you how you were doin', how you and Reyes were gettin' on.”

   “He hasn't shown up in two days since I left the infirmary so I'm not sure. Think he mighta brushed my arm earlier today but isn't talking. You two had a chat yet?”

   “... Uhm... Sorta?”

   “Sorta how?”

   “When Angela asked me to confirm their hunch 'bout him, we just had a fistfight. Then a couple days ago he was stalkin' you again and he talked to me and Genji- but it wasn't.. Nah, we ain't had a talk I’m satisfied with yet.”

   “You think he's avoiding it?”

   His nose wrinkles, exhaling sharply. “Little bit?”

   “You want to have a serious conversation with me right now, or wait till later.”

   “.. Depends? You lookin' for something in particular?”

   “I sent you to talk to Gabriel before the fall, and you were long gone before I heard the end of it.” A dark silence overtakes the bathroom at the thought, Mccree's head falling to stare at the floor. “We don't have to talk about it now, but I'm going to say, it will probably make me figuring Reaper out better, easier.”

   “You /think/ it will. Whatever, no time’s gonna be better... When you asked me to size him up, we'd already had a couple fights about Blackwatch things, like I told'ja. He snapped, claimed I was a 'traitor', and had me 'fired', which included settin' all the dogs on me. I couldn't talk him outta whatever you think he was doin', and it reminded me a lot more of this 'Reaper' character then anything I'd known a' him before.”

   Jack blinks a few times, face still turned towards the mirror and inspecting. “Sounds like what I thought. I'm sorry I didn't...”, he sighs, finally turning back towards the despondent man 

   “Lotta mistakes got made near the end, don't gotta blame yourself. We're here now, it's what it is.”

   “Once he shows back up again for me, Jesse, I'll work on him for you. If he didn't forget me, he isn't going to forget you.”

   Jack can tell by the huff in his voice and the way he shifts on his feet that Mccree's choking back some spiteful response- and he doesn't blame him, he lets it go. He's trying to just be comforting, no matter how the younger man won't take his words to heart. Jack could go blue in the face swearing that Reyes had been just as attached to Mccree as he was to him, but it wasn't the attachment he was looking for- and this poor reaction between them now solidified his distrust. “… I'm... gonna get on. You're good here by yourself?”

   “I'll be fine, Jesse. Get going.”

   No matter how irritated he was now at Jack's response, he wasn't about to leave the blind man here by himself- though he was questioning the level of blindness he was with how adamantly he stared at his own reflection. Given permission though, Jesse heads through the door, his brain literally starting to ache from the thoughts he'd wrenched out of himself.

\---

   There was no alcohol on the base whatsoever- Mccree expresses his discontent to that to Reinhardt, who'd been the apparently assigned man of acquisitions, and the knight explains that no one had asked for it before, but also that it wasn't exactly high on the priority list. Not high on YOUR priority list, maybe, and in a quiet response, Lena comments that maybe next time they were out, beer could be obtained. Next time they were out was not /now/, however, and he'd sighed to be left high and dry in his time of want.

   That is, until Mei appears and snuffs a bottle under his nose with a smirk. “… Now honey I don't wanna get caught discredittin' yah, and that sure /smells/ like vodka, but I don't know if I trust whatever thirty year old stash you've come up.”

   “.. it does not go bad if it has stayed sealed. Trust me!”

   “Where'd you get it.”

   “I had a stash in the plane. It is not much, and I was not thinking about sharing it... but you seem down.”

   “Aw, shucks.” It isn't his usual drink of choice, but he take a gulp out of courtesy at least. “.. Not bad, not bad. Keepin' the edge off. You're not sittin' in a room by yourself drinking all this, are you...”

   “.. Well, I'm trying not too.”, she shrugs, having been 'caught' in a bad habit. “But you can always come drink with me.”

   Having been the man who'd begged for alcohol earlier after a completely depressing conversation with his old commander, he is in no position to scold her for drinking her own sadness away. He gives her a look anyways, but takes up the offer of drinking together instead. “How much you got left.”

   “.. Not as much as I should have.”

                        ----

   They're already drinking before they arrive at the living area, expecting maybe there will be someone already there, but in a stroke of bad/good luck, it's just.. Hanzo. He's gotten a vidscreen working, somehow, it's playing a movie- and just barely do they grasp his attention from it, dark eyes slowly looking over at them as they pause.

   She frowns, thinking that means this isn't where the party is going to land, but Mccree instead takes it as a tipsy challenge, sauntering up to him. He expects him to get up and leave, or at least move, but he just sort of stares. “... Watchin' somethin' good?”

   “.. Probably not?”

   “Welp, we're drinkin'.”

   “I... can see that.”

   “And yet you ain't tellin' me to leave.”

   “It's a common area, it wouldn't be in my right to tell you to leave.”

   “Yeah yeah, whatever you say darlin'.”

   Mccree is too uninhibited to let the grumpy Shimada ruin the good mood he has /precariously/ balanced in his glass of alcohol. As he said before, he wasn't barking at either for them to shove off, and though Mei's a bit uncomfortable, the cowboy saunters up to the couches across from Hanzo and slumps down there, offering her a seat beside his leg. The other man's attention is drawn to the tv again in a heartbeat, ignoring them while they continue chatting about pasts. The conversation is mostly a slurred recollection of her work in the Antarctic and China, and Mccree's various escapades from the most recent few years.

   Mei watches for a moment when the conversation lulls, and Mccree's eyes look over towards the TV- and then Hanzo. It's not playing anything anymore, but he's laid down and still staring. “.. TV ain't playing anything anymore, sweetheart.”

   He doesn't respond, blinking but focused on nothing.

   “... Didn't he hurt his head?”

   “Mn, don't think that's...mnn.” With a wobbly motion, he stands, stepping towards the other couch. He takes the cool-ish bottle by the neck, and sets the condensated bottom on Hanzo's forehead. This is what finally managed to catch his attention- his eyes snap upwards to the cowboy, position unmoving. 

   “Are you done talking?”

   “Your movie's over.”

   “.. I was unaware my movie had anything to do with your conversation.”

   Without warning, the cowboy turns and slumps down in front of the couch with a solid thump and 'ooaf'. “Hrrrk- I just think it's not great for your eyes, probably, just starin' into space like that.”

   “.. I will be fine, thank you.”

   They lock eyes when Mccree looks at him sidelong, half lidded. He offers the bottle to him, right under his nose, “You look a might bit like you'd like this.”

   “… I do not need that right now, no.”, but he reaches to take it anyways- instead moving it to the far side of the armrest. “Neither do you.”

   “S'never about 'need', Shimada.” He lets the drink get taken from him, closing his eyes and resting his head back on the couch.

   “Are you just going to sit on the floor now?”

   “Y'know, it's not a contest, I'm gonna preface with that, but me an' Mei been talkin'.” Hanzo makes an expression of 'thats not even sort of the answer to my question”, but Jesse just keeps talking, “We got some stuff in common, and maybe, you'd think about givin' talkin' to us a chance.”

   “Please, do tell, what we might have in common.”

   “Killin' people we ain't shoulda killed. Except, tee-echnically, from what I hear, she's got a bigger tally on it than you do. Seein' how Genji ain't dead.”

   “Says the man who'd tells me it isn't a contest.”

   “And it's not! Don't get me wrong! And actually, I was hopin' that you'd let me off the floor.”, oh, there goes his train of thought back on track, ok.

   “I wasn't stopping you.”

   “... And if Mei wanted to get on the couch.”

 

   “I never was stopping either of you from getting on the couch.” What an unexpected answer. Genji said his brother would be distant, longing for attention but never accepting it. And he isn't even drunk, what excuse could he have. But again- it's been years, personalities change. With a shimmy he pushes up onto the couch, removing his hat and placing it on the other man. Hanzo accepts the hat with a sigh of exasperation, letting it obscure his vision- he shifts his legs out of the way and close to his chest so the cowboy can squeeze in fully, and while he can't see her, the couch shifts when the other woman he is completely unfamiliar with takes her place at the furthest side from him. Muffled beyond the hat, he speaks again. “Tell me more of your life, then, as you were.”

   “You weren't listenin' in before?”

   “I was, but maybe not as much as I could have been, I apologize for not falling for my trope.”

   “.. Yer... trope....?

   “An archer sees and hears all.”

   “.. Oh, ha, I wasn't even meanin' to imply.” Hanzo’s metal feet were sticking a bit into his thigh, and in a bold move Mccree lifts them into his lap instead. No complaints. “I mean, I was in a gang before Blackwatch so that's about it.”

   “Deadlock.

   “.. So you /are/ fallin' for your trope.”

   “The common knowledge was that you were still one with them.”

   “Oh ho ho, go over to them and ask them if they'd ever let a Jesse Mccree back into their house. They'd damn well crucify me.”

   “And what of you, girl. Mei? We haven't been introduced.”

   “No, we had not, and I was going to say something but I... did not...”

   He offers a foot- it's closest and his hands are too far to reach. In a drunken response, she takes it like normal. “Hanzo Shimada.”

   “Mei-Ling Zhou.”

   “Where in China?”

   “Xi’an- but more recently, I was living in the Antarctic.”

 

   “I had heard that. You were doing research there for Overwatch, climate change.”

   She gets a bit quiet- but earlier, she had spoken of it to Mccree- and has shared the unfortunate story with those in Overwatch she had gotten friendly with. Even more now, inebriated, the story slips out, “There was a bad storm, and all were put into cryostasis to await rescue. However Overwatch was in a bit of a pickle itself, so it never came.” Her lip pouts out, body leaning into the cushions behind her. “I guess it is not the same as your stories at all.”

   “It is not a contest, but I would not blame yourself for something like that.”

   “O-ohkay.”, Mccree, despite not responding, curls his mechanical arm around her, pressing her into his side. “If Winston had not done the recall, I would still be in the Antarctic watchpoint. The call turned on old systems for some reason... And I guess then I also would not have been able to pick up your brother, Jesse and you! And you are welcome for that.”, her tone turns into teasing, giggling to break the tension she'd created.

   “Thank for you helping my brother. But also, no,” gently, he lifts a foot up to poke her in the chest, “No thank you's for helping my brother with /me/.”

   “Oh yeah, cause you're lookin' like you're havin' a terrible time loungin' like a housecat.”

   “A caged tiger will still lay and sleep in a chain link fence.”

   It sinks into silence now, dark and late in the night. He lets Mei slip to the side, curling up on the other armrest and drifting into sleep. Mccree however is still on a mission, and over the course of thirty minutes, slooowly leans onto Hanzo. No complaints.

   “Well, do you at least feel less stupid yet.”

   “No.”

   “Anythin' you think I can do to fix that.”

   “Why do you feel compelled to 'fix it'.”

   “'Cause it's the right thing to do.”

   “You're lying.”

   “.. 'cause Genji'd be happy if I did.”

   “That is why this won't work for you, cowboy. But, I am currently willing to let you play pretend. Look and how much I'm letting you /play/.” He doesn't really like that response, but from the warm body resting softly underneath him, to the soft snoring behind him, he's not being well into consciousness anymore himself. Groaning, he pushes himself back up, but stops when he feels the man’s body follow him. “Sleep, idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why 'heck' formats fine but this refuses not to upload with weird double spacing. when i look at them in open office, they have literally the same spacing, but mistakes always always double spaces when i paste it into AO3. :0/ who knows AO3 better that can tell me how to turn off this garbage double spacing.
> 
> i dont like tagging for pairings that are only implied, so if you see the implied mcreyes and become upset, i am sorry. there won't be any porn of it here.


	6. ch6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reiteration.

            There is regret in his back when he rises the next morning. His head hurts too, to add, and for a blissful moment he forgets how he'd gotten into this position last night- but snaps back in an instant when he leans himself up- and still feels a body beneath him. When he finally opens is eyes, blearily, Mccree's gaze uncomfortably locks with Hanzo's, who is very much more awake and up then he is. “Fuckin’- What, were you jus' waitin' for me.”

            “I could've slipped out from under you, but you would’ve woken, and it would've ended the same as this, so what would be the point.” You can just say you didn’t mine cuddlin’, Hanzo. The man below him lifts Jesse with the rise of his chest, sighing. Guess he could get up now that he's 'awake'.

            Looking behind him, Mccree sees if he spots Mei still to the other side of him. Nope, gone. He wonders a bit if she's the kind of girl to take embarrassing pictures- but if Hanzo was awake, would he have let her? Wearily he raises to a full sit, stretching out his arms above his head and yawning. Apparently he makes too loud of a noise while he does, however, for when he looks down at Hanzo again, he's staring like he's just kicked a puppy. Blinking at him, the cowboy shrugs, “What? Guess you didn't have a good sleep, then.”

            “You both snore.”

            “I offered, you coulda' drank, woulda slept like a babe.”

            “I have my doubts. You might seem to think you rested well, but I'd beg to differ.”

            For a moment the cowboy was going to question that, but his stomach interrupts. A night of drinking and not eating. He's feeling a headache coming along, too, squeezing an eye shut. “You wanna' come get breakfast.” The offer comes second nature to him, but Hanzo's playing friendly still too. As long as they both kept friendly, he might be able to keep up this whole pretend friendship thing up until it wasn't forced so much anymore. Genji's brother was turning a bit of a new leaf from the past couple interactions they'd had over the last few days. He could get used to this.

            Hanzo rises without answer, but turns a head behind and waits for the cowboy to follow. With a groan, he does, heaving himself heavy upwards, and wobbling when the blood rushes from his head. “... Where'd you put my hat?”

            “Mei took it.”

            “And y'just let her.”

            And he /smirks/, it seems odd on the Shimada's face, tiny and momentary. “Are you not two friends?”

            Mccree can't help but give him a look of weary confusion. He had absolutely no idea what he was playing at. “.. Yeah alright, I'll get it back later. Com'on, it's early enough in the day we might actually get somethin' decent to eat... Mn, if the doctor is there, Angela. Y'think you can handle that?”

            “I will live. If I feel ill-will, I can always just leave.”

            “Ha, yeah I guess, partner. Thinkin' you know the base more than I do now.”

                                                --- 

            Jesse relishes in the full room, but Hanzo shrinks in the pseudo compression of the morning business. It isn't surprising, but yes, Dr. Ziegler was in fact, there- but in an act of peace keeping, they ignore each other completely. In fact, Hanzo noticed, most were ignoring him. At first he thought it was due to the nature of his being there, his past being well known- but it sinks into him instead that it is the way he's glued to the cowboy’s backside in accidental timidness. He swears, up and down, to hell and back, he KNEW how to interact with strangers. He'd been living an estranged life for years without issue. How his skills fell before him in the face of an apparently kind and gentle woman.

            However, in a saving grace, the cowboy was /allowing him to do this/. He greets his friends eagerly, snipes food for the both of them, navigates between. At the very least, Hanzo takes the faces and names between them, Fareeha, Lena, Angela- /Reinhardt/. He has to take a mental stop at that last one for a moment. Several days ago he'd thought to himself, that a talking gorilla would be the largest thing he'd ever have the glamor of speaking with. Living to be surprised however, this human man, deep and bellowing throughout the room, nearly dwarfed the aforementioned in size. The German Crusaders of the Omnic Crisis. He wouldn't even have to ask him- the Shimada had learned of them in his youth, and in an educated guess, /knew/ this would be an explanation. He had to be getting onto sixty. What otherworldly pact had he made to keep such vigor.

            Reinhardt catches him staring, from around the cowboys shoulder. He slips around Angela to greet Jesse first, but the both of them see the singular eye stuck behind to Hanzo hiding. He wants to greet him. For a moment, Hanzo is reminded of an overeager dog. A large over eager dog. A Great Dane. He needs to say hello to you.

            It's unanticipated when the man lowers his grandeur tenfold, brushing Mccree aside, “Would you plan to sit back forever, like that, my friend?”

            The elder Shimada squints at his question, and at the ending remark. “It’s awfully tempting in this crowd. You would blame me for hesitation.”

            “You have no need to fear me!” Jesse moves before he /is/ moved, leaving Hanzo high and dry. It was inevitable anyways, at this point.

            “You must be used to such a reaction. I was caught off guard by Winston as well. Maybe my memory serves me poorly- you, you are larger than him, yes? Reinhardt, was it?”

            “Haha! You are not wrong, I weigh more than him.” A hand lands with a slap on his shoulder, jostling a grunt from him. “A sharp one, are you?”

            “It comes with the family.”

            “Yes, Genji was also quite sharp. Is! Is sharp. .. Where is he, your brother?”

            “I spoke with him yesterday, but.” His head turns, looking around despite knowing well his brother was not here. It wouldn't be terribly comforting if he was.

            “Eh, metal butt ain't need to eat much as we do, so he don't come 'round the kitchen much. Speakin of, if you wouldn't mind, Rein, I'd like to get my stomach settled, and I'm sure Hanzo would too.”

            “Of course, of course! I don't even remember a time where you have risen as early as this, you'll get more then cold waffles for once.”

            “Aw, I was getting' used to that.”

            Hanzo is having trouble stomaching anything at all. Mei appears for a few minutes to trade back a hat and whine about a much, much worse hang over than Mccree seemed to be having, but doesn't stay. She wanders off with Lena, who is also an apparent Overwatch head(and he had met before but distinctly remembered none of), and they both go off to meet with Winston after giving Hanzo a long winded tirade about nothing in particular. It's all standard greetings, stereotypical, forced. Grating on his nerves. Angela goes nowhere. He thinks she’s testing her limits, maybe. She thinks he's testing his, as well.

            All attention is broken for a moment when a man in a mask enters. Behind it, he guesses, is Jack Morrison, the white hair and how he holds himself is familiar. Behind him, slunk as close behind to the old man as Hanzo had been to Mccree earlier, is another man in a mask- or more than that, completely draped in a visage of black and skulls. Like a bad movie character. Much akin to the overzealous cowboy get up Mccree was all about. Maybe they have the same tailor. Hanzo is about to turn to the side and ask him about it- but is stopped short when he sees wide eyed fury just below the brim of his reclaimed hat. There isn't a time in their extremely short history he'd seen the cowboy even annoyed, let alone enraged by the sight of someone. It is extremely curious. Jack gives the archer a tiny thumbs up, and he can't help but scowl in return- does he not see the irritation the cowboy wears? Maybe that visor doesn’t do anything for facial expressions, still.

            Vaguely, he listens in on the conversation that unfolds. All else question Jack about his little visor mask combo, until he sits down with Reinhardt and unclasps it to eat. The man in black stays near a wall, he's staring at himself and at Mccree. Maybe. He had no visible eyes to speak of.

            Hanzo sneaks a word to the cowboy, “Who is the final man.”

            “Y’know when I said, you probably don't remember, but back in the shower. I said Jack was one of my, hah, 'two dads'.”

            “He surely does look like he's returned from the dead, doesn't he.”

            “Think I'd rather your father 'fore I get god damned Reyes back like... like this.”

            “I wouldn't know until he speaks.” Hanzo is testing, baiting him to bother.

            “Well, lemme fix that for you then.”

             Hanzo feels the buildup of tension in his cohort, until it bursts, and he stands, sharply, but imitates calmness well enough to walk over to the other without shoving anything else aside. Angela perks up to notice the rage, however, eyebrows furrowing. The fury falls over to her like an overfull cup.

            The ensuing conversation is not what Hanzo expected or wanted. He might've been staring a bit too hard at the ghost, 'Reyes', or 'Reaper', he's heard both, and Jack thinks to calm the situation by bending his spine backwards to speak with the man in black. The doctor rises to intervene- Hanzo can't help but notice the man in black is uh... evaporating now? Violently? Maybe he’s a little more on the dead side then originally predicted. When he thinks it truly cannot be more awkward and stressful then this, it all ends in violence- for the doctor, and Reyes. He snaps at her, strangely, in front of her chest, tosses her aside from his grip. Before Hanzo can even think about getting up and intervening, all else are on their feet. The archer deigns not even to stand at this point, simply watching with an expression of wide eyed bemusement, drinking his tea. When they wrestle the ghost into submission, Mccree gives him a few choice words of sass, before retreating towards Hanzo. When he is no longer facing his well-known friends, the archer watches as his facade of control literally melts from his expression, for a solid moment replaced by pure dejection and anxiety. Why he would share such obviously hidden emotional turmoil with Hanzo alone is above him, but he rises when the cowboy approaches, grabs him about the arm and drags him out through the door.

            “What- what, where-” Jesse has the audacity to sputter while the other man drags him away.

            “What do you mean /what/, I'm doing you a favour.”

            “Er, they might still need my-... heck who am I kiddin', fine, we're goin, and we’re gone...”

            The distance from the kitchen doesn't bring anymore comfort to him; Mccree is painted with disappointment in his entirety rather than just his facenow. Hanzo might remark how he wears an entirely different demeanor when in front of his closer friends rather then what's real before a stranger now- but he doesn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. He had known some people in his past that were the same way, and it made them very easy to 'work' with. They stand in the hallway near Genji's room for a long while, Jesse with his head pressed against a wall, while Hanzo lay in wait with his hands on his hips. As if sensing the disturbance, Genji's door shifts open and the cyborg himself comes out. His mask is off, and in confusion, his eyes flick between the two of them. Mccree doesn't move- doesn't notice or doesn't care.

            “Hanzo, are you breaking the hearts of men already.”

            The archer /groans/, slowly placing his face in his hands. “/No/, brother, I am not the cause of this.”

            Mccree stands back up abruptly from the wall, a rod in his spine, his face deadpan. “Nothing is the matter, I just have a hangover.”

            “I will allow you to lie in front of a group of your peers, but I will not allow you to lie in front of my brother.” Hanzo might warn him first, but there's nothing he can do to stop him from fully turning to Genji and continuing; “ He is upset because a man came to breakfast- 'Reyes'?”, he recites the name, but sounds confused of its nature, “ And he had an argument with him. It ended with the man in black assaulting the doctor.”

            Hanzo chooses his words wisely, his brother immediately reacting to the attack on his friend with fervor, “What? Is she ok?!”

            “Yeah yeah, everyone's fine, she walked outta the kitchen no worse for wear.”

            In between words, he walks the distance between then, staring up at the cowboy, who, despite best efforts, still looks wearier then he might like. “… Are you ok?”

            “Why wouldn't I be.”

            He looks to his brother, who is all eyes on Mccree's face. Staring down the expression of him. Old habits, hmn brother? “I am sorry, but you have already been outed. You fought with him? Words, or...?”

            “We just had a bit of an argument, it was nothin', really. He got pissed off at Morrison more than anything, and then Angela came up to get in between them, and then it all went to hell. Looked like he took a right bite outta her but came up empty handed.”

            “He looked like he was attempting to bite her soul.” Hanzo reiterates with something that sounds completely illogical to the cowboy.

            “Her- her what? How you get even suspectin’ that.”

            “I saw the lines for it..?” The way he states is so plainly, like it’s common sense.

            “The... the lines.” Mccree looks down at him with half lidded disrespect, lip drawing up in a sneer.

            Genji breaks between them with a laugh, shaking his head. “If I told you it was 'dragon' stuff, would that soothe the confusion?”

            “Like hell it would, you still expect me to believe that dragon bullshit.”

            “Angela even said she saw it once, and still, still you think me a liar.”

            Hanzo tilts his head towards his sibling, eyebrow raised. “Are you telling me, in your time in Overwatch, you never summoned the dragon in combat?”

            “Up until recently, the dragon would not respond to me, so no.” He watches his brother gaze go sidelong in confusion, silently questioning. “No, not that recently, I had known they would come long before I met with you again.” That is comforting to hear. “ .. Actually...”, he turns back to Mccree, who is still wearing skepticism on his face. “My friend, I know you are facing your own problems, but-”

            “Please, please give me something else to think about, don't ever worry about that.”

            “Hah- I thought at much. You know how I said I was looking for my Master, Zenyatta, but after his brother’s death, he disappeared?”

            Hanzo is completely unaware of this situation, but Mccree's emotional state takes a complete flip, he is elated to hear the news. “You found him?”

            “He contacted Angela, because they had been sharing emails while I was staying at the Shambali. He is fine- and actually is asking to come here for safe housing, in the wake of Mondatta's assassination.”

            “.. Y'think he's in trouble for that?”

            “I do not know, but I would want him to come anyways. He was apparently traveling old omnic crisis battlegrounds at the time. He might've wanted to return to the Shambali, but decided against it.”

            Hanzo can tell his brother thinks it's because he would rather be with him. He feels that.. that old, eager infatuation his brother held for many other in their youth. Nose crinkling between his eyes, he nearly hisses, “The Shambali? Your, your 'master', is an omnic?”

            “ … You have a problem with this?” Jesse swears he hears the spark between them. That's far more like siblings, more arguing and less friendliness.

            “No, I have no resentment for omnics. I just did not think you would ever.. listen to one?”

            “I didn't at first, you're not wrong, but Zenyatta has... a way with words.” His eyes half-lid, contesting his brother’s dissension. “When he arrives, you might learn something from him.”

            “He may /try./”

            “.. Either way- in a few days, me and Winston will be heading there to pick him up. He's bringing a friend- Aahh ha ha I.. hmn.” He cuts himself off, suspiciously, and thinks to turning around and disappearing before the two can ask him why the hesitation.

            “Oh no you don't”, the cyborg is caught about the arm before he can, “You can't just say something like that and expect me to take it laying down.”

            “What if I told you Winston said 'no telling'? .. It's not like I think either of you will care.”

            “Do you think we might share the information?” Hanzo questions, not half as curious about it as Mccree was.

            “I don't think that either. But I want to play it safe. There's a chance Winston will meet him and will decide not to allow him in our home. The nature of his being is rather... Hmn... Might not go well with the rest of our friends.”

            Hanzo has an educated guess after an explanation like that, but doesn't feel like deflecting Genji's rebuttal if he speaks it now. He'll tell Mccree later. Or he won't. The cowboy looks still as confused as ever, but lets it go. “Well hell, I guess if Winston boss-man said no, I'll have to just wait like a good patient boy... I think I need to go take a nice long walk.” His hands are on his face, rubbing out the tension.

            “That seems fair. I'm going to go make sure Angela is ok, if that works.”

            “Sounds right, though I told'ja she was right as rain when she left. Hanzo, you comin'?”, he throws out an invite, haphazardly.

            “If you don't mind me.”

            Genji is happily surprised at how social his brother appeared to be- even if it was only with a single man. Mccree was good hands to be in. Or, at least, he was good hands to be in when they were close many years ago. If he had the time of day to sit down with Hanzo and get all the good details on how Jesse was acting, he might change his mind about that nowadays.

                                    ---

            Their walk is mostly silent, and Hanzo does not mind that even a bit. From his inspecting travels across the base, he leads the cowboy outside for a short while- makes him climb a steep incline to a nice spot that stares out over the ocean as the sun falls. The cowboy produces a cigar from apparently nowhere, and with them nice and outside in the breeze, finally has a nice chance to smoke it without getting barked at by anyone. An offer is made to Hanzo to share it, but he declines.

            “... If I said I wanted to go back and talk to Jack about today, would you have anything snarky to say about that.”

            “Sitting on issues in your mind is a sure way to let them fester.”

            “See, you agreed with me, but that was still snarky.”

            “Seems so. That other man, he was an adopted father, correct?”

            “Yup. Picked me up at 17 though so don't take it too seriously.”

            “You both look similar.”

            “.. He don't look like much of anything right now.”

            “You both dress like you're at a costume party.”

            “.. Like you can talk.”, the cowboy eyes over Hanzo's outfit, eyebrow raised.

            “This is not terribly abnormal where I am from.”

            “It /kinda/ is, but I'll let you pretend.”

            “It’s not half as unusual as an old west cowboy... Or a black clad reaper.”

            The cowboy rolls his eyes, before setting back down on the sun and the orange tinted water beneath it. He actually.. hadn't been outside much the entire time he'd been back on base? Being outside was a huge hazard back 'home', between the blistering sun and the enemies on his heels. Even if somehow, a gunman was on stage here set to kill him, Mccree knew about five people who would make the job extremely difficult. It wasn't just him here. The straight sea air relaxes his sinuses, thought it gets a bit chilly. Despite the loose clothing, Hanzo doesn't seem to care.

            “Why do you hide yourself in front of friends, but not a stranger?”

            Jesse takes a few long moments of silence to recollect himself from his relaxation to respond. “'Cause they care. They worry, and they think they'll have some way of just goin' on and fixin' it.” His response is biting, near literally, the cowboy clicks his teeth and snarls his lips.  |A stranger though, a stranger don't really care. They sit and listen, but they got their own things to think about. It's like- you're with someone, so you can at least pretend you ain't lonely.” With one eye closed, he tilts his hat way down to stare down the other man like a knife. “Sure as hell that's why you're keepin' up with me instead of your brother.”

            “ .. True enough.” He hadn't thought about it that way. It wasn't just the cowboy making a weird social judgment call. Mccree, at least, could still remain with the other woman whom he'd met last night if he chose too- but she appears to be much more adept at making friends then the cowboy and archer, or occupied with work. The two of them, quite by accident, are stuck with each other now, having made pacts of silence towards their emotional depositions. What a terrible fate. “Shall we get going to your other mentor to speak before the night falls too dark? You might catch him before he sleeps.”

            Mccree laughs, settings up on his legs with a grunt, before offering Hanzo a hand. “Alright, you're right. He's an old man, I bet he goes to bed real early.”

                                    ---

            Jesse asks Athena where Jack in instead of making him and his 'friend' wander around uselessly. Luckily enough for them, he will be awake, and for some time, guarding after the estranged Reaper. Or, he was supposed to be awake. When they approach, it seems like he's taking a nice wall nap, leaning heavily with his head tucked into his shoulder. Hanzo steps rough between them to jar the old man awake, and he startles, huffing before reasserting himself standing and conscious.

            “Whoa there! Sorry to catch you sleepin' on the job, then.”

            “Jesse... Hanzo,” He looks between the two of them, behind his visor, sounding a bit confused that they are still hanging around together.

            “I kinda wanted catch you for some words, but now that I'm here, I'm not sure what else we'd be getting' to talk about.”

            “I have some intuition.” Despite the wonder between why Hanzo would be taking place in this conversation, he continues, “You’re right, he doesn't really recognize you right.”

            “.. I'm not crazy, right?”, the relief from someone else pointing it out drowns his anxiety, “ When I asked Angela she just said he was like that for everyone, but then you come around and I... just...”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Ah heck, I shouldn't make you feel sorry.” But, he kind of does want the man to feel sorry. “ .. He even likes that girl more then he likes me.” Hanzo is watching his expression like a hawk, but the cowboy doesn't care.

            “Don’t let the reaction he had be completely your blame, Jesse. He was wound up before we got there.”

            “ .. Yeah I guess. Thanks for humourin' me.”

            “I’ll keep working on him. He's a lot less different then he shows when he's around people. Once you get him by himself, I can barely tell the difference. Other than that horrible get-up.”

            “Maybe he's forgotten you less than you think.” Mccree's gaze flicks to Hanzo when he speaks- Jack makes a noise of humour to his finally commenting.

            “Huh? What do yah mean?”

            “You both have horrible costumes.”

            “... Oh you just love makin' that joke.”

            “You make it very easy to make.”

            Morrison snickers at the pseudo argument, glad to see them both relax a little. Mccree was always the kind to make friends quick. “Alright, wander off now, before I get in trouble for letting you stay too long.”

            “What, is he on that bad of a lock down?”

            “Since he's been attacking anyone with mood swings, yes.”

            “Shoot, that definitely includes both of us.” Jesse's eyebrows raise in exasperation, having gotten nowhere in the conversation. “Alright, let’s keep wanderin', Hanzo.”

            It's been a long, eventful, /stupid/ day, and Mccree is 100% ready to lay down and sleep for an uninterrupted 12 hours of bed rest. On his own bed. And not drunkenly on top of a man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my momma bought my microsoft word! praise the blood gods! i fixed all the spacing and some more grammar bullshit in old chapters. ;0)


	7. ch7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> like shootin' fish in a barrel

            They’re back in a saddle now, are they. Winston messages Jesse late in the afternoon, having immediately broken his streak of waking up early. He’s still in bed, slapping a hand over the given phone like it’s an annoying alarm clock- but when his eyes catch the time, around 3pm, he rises with a grumble. Worse sleeping in than usual. 12 hours of uninterrupted beauty sleep might actually have him feeling rested enough, though.

            It takes longer to find anyone in the base then it has any right to take-, what are there, twelve of them now? Everyone is busy. Everyone has hobbies. What are your hobbies, Mccree? What can we do to pass the time?

            He doesn’t ask Winston or anyone if the old firing range is still in working order- if it isn’t, he can pass the time making it so. He’s unfortunately low on bullets too, so that isn’t helping. Maybe some of the old weaponry that hadn’t been sold was locked away in the range itself that he could at least amuse himself with. He doesn’t even think to eat before he waddles off in search of mental stimulation.

            The guns are not to be found- but instead, he finds.. Hanzo. “Shoot, I thought us having things in common was supposed to be a joke.”

            The other raises an eyebrow at him, settling his bow down low again. “If it was completely false, then I wouldn’t continue bothering myself with you. And here I thought you came here to talk to me specifically.”

            “Well sure, I’ll pretend I came here just to chat you.”

            Exasperated, the archer’s eyebrows furrow when he turns to face the other man, hands resting on hips dismissively. Jesse isn’t sure what he’s done wrong already, so early since waking up. “You did not check your messages?”

            Oh right. That’s why he was awake now in the first place. His eyes dart around a moment before he slips the phone from his pocket, eyeballing it. ‘Hey, Winston here. I have an assignment lining up and I’d like you to come down to the lower mission room just for debriefing’s sake, around 18:30. Can you bring Hanzo Shimada with you as well? I’ll send him a message so he knows you’re coming.’ Sent, 11 am. Three hours ago. His eyes dart back to Hanzo, who does not look amused. “Whoops. I guess I set an accidental standard wakin’ up too early the past couple days.”

            “Well, you didn’t sleep past and into the request, so you have that going for you.” With a hand motion he beckons the cowboy to close the distance between them, but has started shooting his gloriously fancy bow at the target nearby. It already has a few bolts through it.

            “Oh, old timey bow shootin’ wins out again.”

            “Mn? And why is that?”

            “’Cause I’m nearly outta bullets and I didn’t want to waste them on targets.”

            “Oh.” He sounds like he didn’t expect it to be that simple. “I mean, sometimes they do break on impact, but yes.” With McCree standing slightly behind and observing him while Hanzo effortlessly thunks an arrow into the poor targets head, the archer feels a bit more watched then he would prefer. When he turns, however, he stops to take in Mccree’s expression of timid amusement, no mocking to be made. Hanzo’s nose crinkles in response, opening his mouth to speak, but closing it again.

            “You got somethin’ else to ask?”

            “A little. Your leader, Winston. He has asked me to help them with a ‘mission’.”

            “Sounds right. You can tell him no, you know. He won’t take it personally. He just probably thinks you might be better off doin’ something then sittin’ at home and shooting poor, defenseless targets.” The cowboy gestures to the aforementioned, chuckling.

            “Not wanting to do it isn’t the problem. I just think it’s strange how he trust me. It’s just because he trusts Genji, isn’t it?”

            “.. I mean, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but yeah, that’s really the thing. Bettin’ you’d like to prove yourself worthy of that without his help, though?”

“Saying it aloud like that makes me a bit want to not, out of spite.”

            “Well, instead a’ making up your mind, we’ll go down tonight and hear him out. Maybe you’ll find something about it you’d really like to get on it. Maybe it’s super sneaky and he’s desperate for agents that aren’t stickin’ out like a sore thumb.”

            “He invited you as well, so I doubt this.”

            “My message looks a bit more like he just wants me to know about it, actually. Just a ‘debrief’ and to bring you along.”

“Oh, hmn. Mine specified he’d like me to come entirely. I suppose you are probably correct, then.”

            “I’m right sometimes! I know, it’s hard to believe.” Oh, it’s so close. He swears, the other man’s lip curls at the edge like he wants to laugh at him, but he doesn’t. It chokes back down, and he nocks another arrow to distract himself. They have four hours to kill now, and while Mccree could leave him here and return for him later, he thinks to bother him just a little bit longer. “Do you even know how to fire a /real/ gun?”

            The bait works perfectly. Maybe, too perfectly. Hanzo lowers the bow, placing it over his shoulder, face far more deadpan then intended. So slowly does his head turn over to face the cowboy- who is looking awful sheepish now. “Give me your gun.”

            “.. Are you gonna shoot me with it.”

            “I was thinking about it for a moment, but it would be too much mess to clean up.” Mccree laughs at the ‘joke’, and in a sign of goodwill, sure enough, hands him the very large revolver. Hanzo holds it oddly in his hand at first, inspecting it.

            “She ain’t gonna bite you. Warnin’ though, she kicks like a horse.”

            “Like a ‘horse’. Of course it would. This is awfully... old fashioned.” He regrets saying it the moment he does, the cowboy pursing his lips and staring down at the bow, arms folding over his chest.

            “Like you can talk old fashioned.”

            “.. All in all,” He gazes up and down the cowboy, “You are still worse than me.”

            “God damned hardly. You can say your get up ain’t as farfetched this day and age till you’re blue in the face and you ain’t changing my mind to sayin’ it is.”

            “Shh, whatever –whatever-.” He places the weapon more accurately in his hands, checking to see if he’d even given him a loaded weapon. Yes, but the chamber was empty when he handed it over. “.. I’d love to lie to you, but I can already tell, this is going to jump right out of my hands when I fire it.”

            And Mccree /laughs/, leans down with his palms on his thighs. “I was waitin’ for you to just go and try! Just go for it. If you drop her it’s fine, I drop her lots. She’s a resilient gun.”

            “You’d let me just try without even offering a hint on how to start.”

            “Heck, well. You’re holdin’ it fine, I’m seeing you’ve fired a revolver before but maybe not one quite this big?” Stepping up beside him, he tests the waters of touch but taking a finger and poking it against the bottom on his arm. “Little bit high in your stance’ll help. Also, get it with both hands. Keep your finger off’a the cylinder end.”

            “You tend to fire with one hand.”

            “Yeah but I got a lotta experience shootin’ like that. Got the muscle in my arm for it. Not sayin’ you don’t got muscle in your arms- but like, it’d be asking me to know how to pull a bow back as sharp as you do. Exercised different parts.”

            As directly, Hanzo grips it with both hands, keeping his thumbs in place and leveling himself to fire. It’s about as loud as he was expecting it to be- but after a morning of silent arrow fire, the archer can’t help but startle in his boots. Well enough, though, he did not drop the gun! It is, however, slightly ajar in his hands. He was aiming at the dummy, but was well distracted now to see if he had actually hit it.

            “Well there you go, firin’ a big sonofabitch. You even hit the target, he’s even more dead than he was before. Heck say it’s a better shot than if you’d given me your bow. You know I’d straight just let go of the wood part instead of the string, whap myself right in the nose if I tried.”

            Hanzo blinks, tilting a head over to look at it. A shot to the ‘shoulder’, he /was/ aiming for head, but. He wasn’t familiar enough with the weapon to know its sights. “You said my brother spoke of his past- you must know I was an heir to a yukaza legacy. Firing guns, and bigger guns than this, was something I learned much in my youth.”

            “Didja fumble the machine guns too.”

            “No, they have proper weights and stands to them. Unlike this thing, which can only be tamed by pure will. You know, answer me this, cowboy. Legends in the West tell of an anachronistic cowboy who could shoot a fly from a mile away. And yet, twice now, we’ve met, and you’ve failed to fatally shoot me.”

            “I thought I got you in the leg.”

            “You scrapped my calf.”

            “That counts! So sue me, I had an arrow in me. Can’t recall where…”

            “You’d never shown remorse to those who called your bounty before that I knew of.”

            “Y’know, people only ever hear about the dead ones.” Mccree sighs, eyes halflidding and staring sidelong. “I let a lotta people go, to be honest with you, darlin’. Though, if you want to feel flattered, feel free.”

            “That didn’t exactly answer my question. What was it, when we met in Canada, which made you pity me?” He passes back the gunslingers weapon gingerly, and he re-holsters it. One less bullet, but the show made it entirely worth it.

            They have a staring contest for a moment while Mccree thinks desperately of a way to explain himself that would be satisfying to the dragon. Nothing really comes to mind. “.. A look on your face? The way you treated your dogs. The way you weren’t sure you wanted me dead either. Y’know though, Hanzo, it was like, five years ago. I hardly remember. Good god, the fact I remember you at all is kinda a’ mystery. You know how many people tried to get me dead?”

            “I appreciate that you do remember so that you could answer.”

            “Happy to help settle whatever itch you got on the past I can scratch.”

            “I’m curious now, though.”

            “Yeah?”

            Hanzo is eyeballing his gun still, back in its home. “How well you truly shoot.”

            “Well heck, I was a part a’ Overwatch wasn’t I?”

            “I haven’t seen what skills kept you in Overwatch.”

            “You’re baitin’ me to shoot somethin’ for you.”

            “Admittedly. You’ve seen me fire at my best.”

            “Y’know I won’t say I think I have, yet, but. You’re in luck that I happen to be a huge showoff. However, you only got /one/ thing to shoot up, and I need at /least/ three to stay fancy.”

            “Oh, if you are going to show off, it must be grandiose?”

            “Well ‘a course.”

            There was many target dummies where the already perforated one came from. They still use him, he still stands up straight, despite being full of arrows- or, holes now where arrows once were. Mccree doesn’t stand them up in a formal line, no, he stands them in a random placement in front of one another and apart. Hanzo stares at his handiwork with amusement. “They aren’t even moving, it does not matter how you place them.”

            “Darlin’ trust me, it’s gonna matter.” He steps back into the safe area of the range; pulling out the Peacemaker, he twirls it on his finger like a massive showboat, flicking open the chamber and aligning the remaining four bullets how he needs them. For postures sake, he gives Hanzo a wink, which is replied to with a terse purse of lips and an expression of forced boredom.

            Hanzo relishes silently in the way the cowboy’s face flicks from humour to pure, impassive concentration. He is, however, spooked again when he fires- an amount of times he isn’t 100% sure of on account of the loud ring each shot provides, and the speed in which they come out. A glance to the targets provide him with the sight of each nearly decapitated by a round. As much as he wanted to be humoured by Mccree’s prowess, Hanzo stomach /sinks/. He has been, as he said, /twice now, on the wrong end of that gun. Jesse looks over just in time to see the other man’s face drop, to watch him swallow dry in his throat. “Huh? Well you’re lookin’ a bit like I shot you, what makes you so nervous?”

            His voice creaks a bit when he responds. “If you had done this maybe a month earlier for me, I might not respond so harshly- but, you remember, I was once blissfully unaware to be on the other side of that aim.”

            .. Mccree nods. “Yeah, that’s true.” Holstering the weapon once more, he steps up to the other man, looking down at him with an expression of empathy. “But I wasn’t ever gonna shoot you like that anyways, so don’t think about it. Unlike you! Your aim ain’t shit to be reckoned with either- you got /distance/. Give me a couple hundred more meters and we’re nowhere near par for each other no more.”

            “I wasn’t trying to shoot to kill you when we were in Japan, you know.”

            “Y’know, I wasn’t convince of that then, but I trust ya’ now. Sure as shit you coulda hit me dead in the head from some of those angles.”

            “I certainly could have.”

            “Hey, while we’re on the topic. You thought I was a ‘bad guy’ then, but you didn’t..?”

            “I knew you were with Genji.”

            “Ah. So you trusted him to know better?”

            “I offered you a chance to, say, give yourself a chance.”

            He winks, /again/, to the distaste of Hanzo, who gives him the same dry look in response. “I sure am showin’ you shit, aren’t I.”

            Mccree doesn’t like how long it take Hanzo to make a reply to that, his face growing into a tiny smile when he speaks, “You’ve so far proven you act very human.”

            “Ha, and what do you act like, a dragon?”

            “… I wish.”

            “Aw, Hanzo, don’t take it like that.” He’s about to try soothing him further, when they’re both interrupted by the cowboy’s /stomach/.

            “… You got out of bed and came straight here, didn’t you.”

            “.. I wanted somethin’ to do. More than I thought I wanted to go bother with people in the kitchen. I used to not eat for days at a time!” Laughing at himself, he raises his hands in defense.

            “You came here and spoke with me fine, but I’ll pretend I understand your strange quirks for now. You are in luck, cowboy, because I have been up since 5 and have been waiting myself for you to show up.”

            … Mccree wants to say ‘because you need me to save you from the scary doctor’, but he bites down on his tongue. Hanzo /sees/ that, /knows/ what you’re thinking, but will praise him for somehow managing to keep his thoughts safely in his head.

                                                -----

            On Hanzo’s insistence, they arrive at the mission room before anyone else. Against Hanzo’s insistence, he sits with his big dumb cowboy boots on the table while they wait- he’s /still/ eating, he has no idea how many snacks the other man stuffed into his, more numerous than he expected him to have, pockets. The Shimada tries to find his inner peace sitting in the quiet- but Mccree is incapable of silence.

            “Are you just trying to make me regret forcing you to try to be early for something for, what I can only assume, is the first time in your life?”

            “..I might be. More like, I might be /now/, now that you’re sayin’ it. We’re wastin’ our time bein’ even earlier than Winston.”

            “Our time was wasted regardless of where we were. In fact, being here to waste our time, in the long run, wastes /less/ because we can get started /first/.”

            “God, you sound like… Pfft, like someone something.”

            “You, sound like Genji.”

            “He’s still like this too, y’know. Bets on it. Genji will show up last.”

            “And how much do you bet.”

            “.. Fuck, I don’t have money. I’ll bet you next time we do this I’ll stay quiet. And when I win, and Genji shows his cyborg ass up fifteen minutes late with Starbucks, you’re gotta sit and let me tell you some cowboy story with ain’t no complaints.”

            “.. I’d rather jut pay you money.”

            “Well you didn’t speak up, so I’m the one who gets the set the table.”

            “How was I supposed to speak. You never stopped talking.”

            And the door swings open- Winston has an arm full of papers and tablet pads. He doesn’t notice the two at first- they’ve gone silent, but finally the scientist looks over and nearly drops all his things, yelping. Hanzo is up first to help him gather his things together, and Mccree just sort of laughs in the midst of it. “Hell, Winston! Didn’t mean to spook you like that, partner.”

            “I just didn’t expect anyone to be here yet! I don’t think anyone has shown up this early.” He accepts the given help graciously, and they take the vaguely unsorted pile to the large, round table in the center of the room. It must be difficult to travel with anything so unwieldly in hand, given the other man’s body structure. Him being a gorilla who, from what he can tell, needs to walk on at least one of his hands to keep any level of pace.

            “Hanzo made me do it. I told him it was a bad idea.”

            “It /was not/ a bad idea. See, now, we can ask your /leader/, beforehand, what we are here to talk about, before anyone else can interfere.”

            “Well, and you’re helping me get all my garbage in a nice pile.”

            “And we ain’t gonna tell anyone you came in here like a nervous cat and dropped it all first.”

            “I mean, I would appreciate that, but anyone who knows me well knows I drop papers. They’re too small!” In a gesture, he holds up a sheet between two hands- it’s /dwarfed/ in his grasp. Mccree splits into laughter again, leaning too far back in his chair, almost upending himself. “Oh, Mccree don’t- don’t hurt yourself before we even get started. I feel like it would be a new record for you.”

            “It’d be a new record ‘cause I ain’t ever came early before in my life.”

            Winston doesn’t seem to catch any innuendo, but the moment Jesse says it, he locks eyes with Hanzo. And they /stare/. The cowboy remains with a sly smirk to his face, and he watches while the other man’s face grows a deeper and deeper frown by the moment. Desperately, he wants Hanzo to mention it. Just say it. Do it. Have fun. Insinuate, out loud, that you might know how fast the cowboy ‘comes’. Damned, he wished Genji was there- Genji would say it. Finally looking up from his paper sorting, Winston bears witness to the silent battle of wills. “… Some kind of inside joke, boys?”

            “Nah Winston, nevermind, it’s nothing. Hey, like Hanzo said. You wanna give us an early scoop since we showed up early like good, upstanding members of society?” 

            “Now that you’re mentioning it, I’m kinda of glad you did show up early! I could’ve explained myself either way, but. I asked you to come here, tonight, but I don’t think I will actually be sending you on this one, Jesse.”

            “From your wordin’ this mornin’, I’m not surprised by this.”

            “I just thought you’d want to be in the loop about it.”

            “Is it ‘cause it’s goin’ to involve someone I wish it wasn’t involvin’?”

            The scientist pauses, look to the side. Bites his lip a moment. “Maybe?”

            Mccree’s arms raise over his head, folding behind there and pushing the hat forwards. “Knew this good mood was too good to be true.”

            “Come now! Last time we sent him to do something, it went beautifully, and it gets him out of the house, so to say.”

            “Y’think, after yesterday, he’s good to get outta the house?”

            “Better anyone else then us?”

            “There’s a lotta rooms with locks around here.”

            “Now, I know you don’t actually mean that. You don’t want me to shove him away in a closet.”

            “I don’t want him hurtin’ anyone who don’t deserve it no more.” The cowboy’s mood has done a completely 180- Hanzo’s seen him do this several times now. He watches his face like a hawk from below the brim of his hat, but Mccree’s more interested in locking eyes with the Overwatch head. Winston doesn’t appreciate the way he stares daggers, even if he didn’t necessarily mean to be so harsh in his gaze.

            “Which is /why/, the best option for him, and everyone else, that we keep sending him out to do things.”

            “… Fair ‘nuff.” He can tell the man still doesn’t exactly agree with him, but that he’s folding to pressure. Winston is, technically, the boss. Mccree knows he doesn’t want to be the boss, so he can’t go acting like it. To break the tension, he glances over at Hanzo- but wasn’t expecting the other man to be staring at him just as intently. Slowly, he squints at him, lips pursing. He’s about to snark him- when the door opens again, and Angela and Fareeha enter, chatting and laughing. It, unsurprisingly, catches Hanzo’s attention immediately. It melts his ability to be snarky, seeing him still fearful, and he /sighs/, forces his conflict down, and gives the two women a smile and a wave.

            Before all else, “Get your feet off the table before I break them off, Mccree.” Fareeha barks, pointing at him with an accusing finger.

            “.. Yes ma’am.”, but he still snickers, shuffling his ass down flat in his chair.

            “Oh, if I threaten to break your legs, you don’t take me seriously…”

            “You didn’t know her mom. It comes with the family, and you /don’t/, fuck with an Amari.”

            Angela and her keep their distance, across the table from them. After a few moments of calm blue oceans, Hanzo rests a hand on his chin, musing his beard with a finger. “I’ll keep that in mind. I think I might’ve felt it first hand, but I only sparsely remember.”

            ----

            “As you know, I receive many messages and calls every day asking for our assistance, but a few days ago, I received a message from someone claiming to work for the Vishkar Corporation. Now, we all know what Vishkar is, their work with hardlight technology is known to be a great humanitarian act across the globe.” All accounted for wait for the audible dissension from Lucio, and they are given it in the form of a long, drawn out groan. All are aware of his and Vishkar's beef. “And, to your credit, Lucio, it isn't just you now who seems to have doubts about their legitimacy. This person, who did not give me any sort of name or personal information, claims they want someone to assist them in getting some classified documentation out in the open, so that someone might be able to give them another point of view on the matters. They aren't directly admitting they know any wrongdoing on the part of the company, but are just... curious. If not for what Lucio has informed me of, I would've passed it up for something else, as hunches aren't really good to work with, but I feel, and correct me if I'm wrong, that this is another good chance to test ourselves out.”

            “Well man, you already know what I think about it.”

            “Yes yes, Lucio, you made your opinion well and known when I showed you the email first.”

            Pharah speaks in counterpoint, “But with something so vague, it could easily be a trap. We do not /think/ they know that you now stay with us, but that does not mean they don't. They may suspect that we would send you to relay the information, seeing as you have the most experience dealing with their technicians, and plot to capture you.”

            “That is, my other thought. At first, I did think to send you alone, Lucio.”

            “You know, sending me anyways isn't a bad idea. If it's a trap, then heck, let me at'em. They've tried to trap me before, and it hasn't worked yet. I'm sorry but, I re-eally do not want to give up the chance for top-notch Vishkar sleaze.”

              “I’m impressed you'd actually trust someone who claimed to be from Vishkar at all.” Angela speaks, tilting her head at the younger man.

            “Ma’am, like I said, I do not want to give up the chance. And anyone can change. Sounds like they might not entirely want to, but man, if I could make up someone's mind about Vishkar, someone that close to the beast, it'd be a buff to my ego, too.” He gives her a wink and a snap of his fingers, leaning back in his chair. “ … But it'd also make it seem like I even got a chance to change the whole thing if I can just help one person.”

              “So, it's a bit about getting information, and a bit about seeing who this person is.” Winston re-enters the conversation, looking about his group of comrades. Lucio, Fareeha, Angela, Mccree, Hanzo, Genji and lazily in the corner, Reaper and Morrison. Jack and his weary ghost appeared last in their list of comrades, shortly after Genji, whom the brother greets with forced affection- Hanzo does /not/ forget the bet Mccree had given earlier, and he stares at the cowboy to make sure he knows that as well. He will hold him too it next time this occurs. Winston seems pleased to have the elder Shimada held in such high attention- him arriving early, /with/ Mccree in tow. A very respectable Agent to have in their midst. Maybe he can continue making something useful out of Jesse, too.

            “Aren’t you curious? Just a random Vishkar tech? If it's like, a real Vishkar tech. You know how indoctrinated those guys are? Picked out when they're dang kids.”

            “I am aware of their practices.” Winston's expression wrinkles at the thought. “It is currently, and was on my mind when you started speaking up about the things you knew of the corporation. So you really think it might be an actual technician there?”

            “I’d real badly like to find out. And actually, yeah, after readin' those emails, and the things they know, it does sound like an actual technician.” Lucio's chin is in his hands, big eyes staring up at Winston in optimistic wonder.

              “‘Wanting to find out really bad' isn't exactly the best excuse.” Fareeha has designated herself the voice of reason for this conversation, it seems. “I’m just not sure slander of a known humanitarian organization is the kind of thing Overwatch needs in its rebirthed youth.”

            “It might be if it means saving another poor district from domination. The support you could get from those people, to prove that they're getting' treated so badly. And don't go tellin' me poor people aren't worth getting support from.”

            “I would not think of it.” She stares down at him from the insinuation, but he doesn't back down.

            “I appreciate hearing this from both sides, but.” Winston interjects, wearing a sheepish grin.

              “But you already have made up your mind.”

            “I kind of had. You're a good voice of reason, Ms. Amari, but it does still feel like a better opportunity than it doesn't. And some other things about it have come together nicely- if my Vishkar informant holds up their end of the bargain.”

            “So there's another part of this you ain't told us yet?” Lucio raises an eyebrow, looking between the faces around him.

              “What can I say, I look to multitask when we're on this tight of a schedule. The more pressing reason I've brought you all here is because I'm laying another trap like I had before to catch Reaper.”

              “You fucker.” Mccree /sinks/ in his chair when Reaper speaks.

              “Aha, yeah. Talon and you fell right for it. I'm hoping they're good enough to fall for this one, too. They have one more big gun I would like to grab sooner rather than later- as they've been busy in Reaper's absence, and before his absence as well. As another good point, last time we went out on a Talon-bothering mission like this, we accidentally were able to shift blame of the event entirely on them- and once again, in Mexico while rescuing you, Lucio, it ended up that Reaper caught all attention, and once again, not-us was blamed. So, I'm thinking, I will be able to structure this in a way, where we can make it seem like it's not Overwatch related at all.”

            “Three times a charm, you think?” The dark clad man laughs, shaking his head dismissively.

            “I’m hoping I can do it more than three times, but sure, yes. The Vishkar informant says they have figured a way to get the terrorist organization to show its face, and in that, Widowmaker will also appear, and we would be able to apprehend her.”

            “Widow... maker?” Lucio questions, eye squinting. “With a name like that, I don't think she's the kind of lady I'm gonna like.”

              “It’s not about liking her, it's about getting her off the streets. If you want the most recent thing on her list of pains in our butt- from the eyes of Tracer herself, she is the assassin that took out Mondatta Tekhartha, the omnic rights leader.” Genji sinks the same as Mccree did earlier- his brother tilting a head in his direction. He mumbles to him while they talk, _“-Would you be terribly bothered by this?-“_

_“-Not really. I understand the need.-“_

_“-Good. Mccree is mad enough as it is without you also.-”_

_“-Mccree is that still mad?-”_ Trying to keep up, they dip back into the conversation at hand. He can reiterate what he means more later.

             “ .. Wow, that's pretty heavy. How come that ain't common knowledge?”

            “Same reason no one seems to know what 'Talon' is. Some people who are very, very good at their jobs.”

            “Not good enough, apparently, if Tracer saw her do it.”

            “Ha- not even just saw, but gave her a run for her money.”

            Mccree speaks for the first time this conversation, having been biting his tongue for anything snarky and unimportant, “I was wonderin' why Lena wasn't here. Y'think she'd veto the whole project?”

            “.. I feel like she would have some hesitations. She was ok with me bringing Reaper home, but doesn't seem to want anything to do with Widowmaker. Something happened when they got up and personal that she doesn't want to share with me, unfortunately enough.” Mccree huffs the quietest laugh at that.

            “You think it's a good idea to do it behind Lena's back?” Angela questions, pouting.

            Winston's nose wrinkles at the thought. “Widowmaker is on our list of super criminals. Whether Tracer wants it or not, I am obligated to subdue her. Knowing her, also, she will accept it in time. I'll make it work, I promise.”

            “If you are sure...”

            For a moment, Winston and Reaper exchange a glance. Mccree catches it, but in his peripheral, he isn’t sure what to make of it. Maybe Reaper was putting him up to the entire Widowmaker catching scheme. How suspicious. “With that, I'm thinking we'll need to send more people on this one. I need a good distraction, in more than one place, but I'm also looking for discretion. Lucio, you know that you will be spearheading getting into the Vishkar building itself to meet with our informant- but I want Genji to be close behind you. You, you two have met, right?”

            “We have!” The audiophile looks over to the cyborg, giving him to big thumbs up, which are returned to him in turn.

            “I will be glad to fight behind you, my friend.”

            “Alright! Hanzo, are you willing to help us with this?”

            “I’m not doing anything else.” But, also for the reasons him and Mccree had talked about while in the target range. Proving himself worthy of it. Making the best of what was available here.

            “And I hear you're good at keeping a low profile.”

             “Arrows don't make much noise, no.” Unlike revolvers.

            “I’m assuming you'd rather work by yourself, but I'm partial to pairs, so if you'd be willing, Reaper will be behind you.”

            The archer turns towards the dark clad man by the wall. Hanzo can't see his eyes, but they observe each other for a moment. His response comes quickly enough, but not without extensive thought behind it. He would like to know, himself, unbiased behind the cowboy’s irritation, if this man needed to be stopped. “I will have no problems with this.” He turns to Mccree after he replies, watches his spine solidify like someone had shoved a bar directly up his ass and out his mouth. He keeps quiet, for /now/, but Hanzo sees how infuriated he is with the response Hanzo gives. Winston sees this too, but will let the boys settle it themselves. He’d wanted to warn them earlier he was planning on doing this, but he..forgot.

             “Reaper?”

            “I’m good if he's good.”

            “Angela? Are you good for back up on this? And Fareeha, I know you expressed not advocating this, but.”

            “Well, you don't have any other medical professionals.”

            “I will remain on the ship as back up with Mercy.”

            “Good! I'll send you all the rest of the written information I have- and this is set to go three days from now. Unless you read through and have any more concerns, all should be in order. You're all dismissed.”

                        ----

            “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

            He’s been hearing this all night. “I never know what I’m getting into. It comes with the territory.” Hanzo had hoped, /desperately/, that his brother would get the hint and assist him with his ‘friend’, but he’s instantly distracted the moment the mission briefing ends. It’s something so vital, he thinks he might no longer be available for the mission itself set to head in three days- so it’s safe to assume that he’s running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to settle deals with people to get what he needs. It dawns on him what the problem is- his brother, so caught up in the moment of doing work for Overwatch, had forgotten that he was heading to Germany for his ‘master’, Zenyatta. Distracted himself, Hanzo is staring at his phone, and Mccree doesn’t enjoy the non-committal replies he receives from the other man.

            “You ain’t even listenin’ to me.”

            “I’m listening, Mccree.”, he thinks that’s the first time he’s heard the other man actually use his name, and it does well what Hanzo wants it to do- get his attention, “You are… I do not want to say, ‘over reacting’-“

            “But you wanna tell me I’m over reactin’.

            They’re sitting in the old living area they’d slept in days earlier. Hanzo sits with his legs crossed, eying over at the man who just could not keep still. He wonders now if he can claim the bet he’s made earlier for silence and peace, but to keep him bottled up now would be unwise. “Earlier today, when we were practicing. You told me then, that you thought me formidable.”

            “Yeah, but-”

            “Your opinion of me, it changes in a day?”

            “Hanzo, I ain’t sayin’ you aren’t a force to be-”

            “Then sit. Are you annoyed you were not invited to some with?”

            “No, hell no. I mean, I want to know what goes down but… I… I don’t even know what I’d do stuck on a carrier with him for hours.”

            “These thoughts have been considered, I’m sure. We’re using a full comm link as well, that directs itself to the base. Perhaps you could sway Athena to lend you an ear- if you are willing to wear one.” Genji had told his brother about why it took so long for him to come to his friends aid when he attacked.

            “.. God, would that even help.”

            “Hearing everything going fine would ease you. And before you say it- it will, it will go /fine/. Alternatively, I can keep my phone on me.”

            “…You ain’t ‘sposed to.”

            “I give myself things in time for reasons. In three days, when we return, and if it all goes to hell. I-… I will make, a ‘bet’. If it goes well, you will talk and apologize to your estranged father. If it goes poorly, I will admit that it went poorly.”

            “That iiiis, an extremely one-sided bet, darlin’.”

            “You did not make the bet, so you do not get to decide.” ... Ooohhh he has him there. Once again, testing him with rare, niche humour. Mccree bears his teeth in a sneer, wrinkling his nose.

            “Fuckin’ fine. I’ll see if I can get Athena on my side and then we’ll see.”

 

 

 


	8. ch8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an endless tirade of shenANIGANS

The next couple days go by in a blur, and for his own sake, Mccree spends a lot of it in his room, brooding like an asshole, avoiding Hanzo like the plague as to not get into an argument with him again. When he rises the final day, it’s… extremely quiet. More than it was before. There’s a single message on his phone, ‘Do not sleep the entire time. Or do, actually, if it keeps you quiet and sane.’ Thanks, Hanzo. He replies, tersely, ‘awake now. you gone?’ ‘Do you have no sense of time?’ ‘nah’

As it turns out, near literally everyone has left the base to go between the mission in Rio and the fetch adventure in Germany. Mccree might complain that leaving this entire base, unguarded besides him, was a terrible idea- but before he can think it, he’s accosted by the single human remaining on base. She does not make him feel any more secure.

He’s falling asleep into a cup of coffee sat at the table and weary, when Hana creeps up on him in the kitchen- and he yelps, sides poked. “BOO! I’m a bad guy and you’re DEAD NOW.”

“Hell in high places, I swear to god you nearly made me choke to death!”

“Sleeping on the job! We’re the only ones here, American, and you’re sleeping! How would you have choked; you weren’t even drinking, you were just blowing bubbles.”

“Now see here, this base has been unoccupied for years, I ain’t worried.” Even though he’d been mentally complaining about being left by himself earlier.

But she’s slipping up beside him, ‘obviously’ too lonely by herself. He can’t even recall having a long lasting conversation with her. What’s her name? All he remembers is it’s the girl who Reaper seems to like more than him. He’s trying not to hold it against her- it’s nowhere near her fault. But it’s hard. And he’s overslept and tired. She’s a bright one, though, she catches on quick to his ‘morning’ manner.

“Story goes that this whole wild adventure was exactly because of that. Not worrying about it.”

“Hmn?” Mccree doesn’t quite catch on what she’s talking about, blinking at her.

“Wow, you really aren’t a ‘morning’ person.” Airquotes over ‘morning’, he doesn’t know what time it is, but one can expect it’s not morning anymore. “Overwatch started up again because Talon broke in when Winston thought that there would never be a problem!”

“.. Oh yeah, huh. You’re a go-getter, ain’tcha.”

“I mean, I thought that’s how you stay alive in this line of work, isn’t it?” Hana stares him up and down, slowly growing a smirk. “Or maybe not, taking a good look at you.”

“Damn right. Been lazy for years.” Man, it’s the first time he’s been able to relax in his sleep for years, but he’ll never stop putting a good face on for the younger girl.

“I’m sure there was someone to keep your ass in gear for you instead.” She has no idea what she’s implying, but Mccree’s eyes narrow, heading tilting away incredulously. “.. Did I say something by accident? I don’t know about your history in Overwatch at all.” Well, nothing that Mccree thinks she might be mentioning right now.

“Not at all?” He leans down towards her, raising an eyebrow from beyond the brim of his hat.

“Should someone have told me about you..?” Reaper hasn’t really said much about the cowboy.

“… Guess not.”

She’s failed to get her only companion on base to cheer up at all, so she idles her chin in her hands and stares across the table with wide eyes. “If I made food, is that the kind of thing you’d like?”

“Depends on what you make.”

“I’ll make something disgusting and foreign for you, my special.”

“Oh, that sounds like a challenge. What could Reinhardt have possibly brought home that you’d be able to make something authentically Korean.” His face rests back into his palms, mumbling into the table.

“Well, since I’m very chatty and friendly, actually, I got the big lug to bring me lots of stuff I can use.” She’s up on her feet the moment he gives her a very vague ‘yeah sure’.

“Oh, but when I ask for alcohol, it’s suddenly, ‘no Jesse, we don’t need that’.”

“Are you telling me your stupid beer is more important than /food/?”

“Implyin’ I want /beer/, and implyin’ beer ain’t just liquid bread.”

“.. Oh ew, liquid bread sounds disgusting.”

“You need to drink more beer.”

“I don’t drink at all, so no thanks for me! Someone’s gotta keep a clear head around here.” He’s pulled his hat over his eyes again, leaning backward in his chair, but he hears the girl fussing about with pots and pans.

“Well, to each their own. Wait- how old’re you again?”

“19. Why? Is that a problem?”

“Just wanna know how clear your head actually is.”

“Do you even remember being this young. What are you, like, 30?”

“More than I wanna remember, yeah.- I look 30, huh? M’flattered.”

“Everything past 30 to me is all the same.~”

“Yeah, I ‘member thinkin’ like that.”

“Are you actually falling asleep again.”

“Was told by my ‘concerned mother’ to oversleep.”

“What, so you don’t get cage crazy?”

“I ain’t a big fan of what’s going on ‘round me, no-.”

“Ok, hold up, wait a bit longer.” She interrupts him when he starts drawling irritable again, and he pushes up his hat to peer at her with a single eye. Her back, at least. She’s makin’ the hell outta that food.

“What am I waitin’ for, darlin’.”

“Do you call everyone darling.”

“Generally. Why?”

“’Cause I need to know if I need to punch you in the nose for it.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Rough edge on you huh. What am I waitin’ for?” He repeats, pulling back his hat. The white lighting of the kitchen is too harsh for him now.

“For me to finish cooking!”

“.. What’s cookin’ gotta do with-…” … His sour mood isn’t helped by the pit in his stomach, and when he gets a sniff of the whatever she’s making, he can feel his insides move in a complaint. “… Sure ‘nuff.”

“So you ARE smart sometimes!”

“Hell- you know who I am, right.”

“You’re a fuckin’ cowboy. Pew pew!” Still joking, but she turns and give him an eyeball of staring. She knows exactly that part of who he is, and his reputation.

“A good cowboy, I hope.”

“Honestly, all I know is the bad cowboy part, but I’m sure you’ll show me the ‘good cowboy’ people around here say you have.” That’s a lot of credit to give him at this point in time.

“One day they’ll let me back on the field. Thinkin’ though, why’d you not tag along today?”

“Eh, they had enough people. Also, I would have trouble fitting, if I actually wanted to do any fighting.”

“… I… Oh- shit you, you drive a big mech, don’tcha.”

“I sure like too! I know how to shoot outside of it, but, my preference is to be incased in metal.” He hears her messing around more with dishes before one slides down under his nose, and she sits beside him again. Before he can start, she tugs off his hat- and before he can complain, “No hats while you’re eating!”

“Gee whiz, ain’t everyone my mom now.” Snatching it back from her, he sets it on his lap and peers down at whatever she’d decided to make. “This is just eggs.”

“It’s not /just/- I don’t know what you expected to happen in ten minutes.”

“I got a lackin’ judgment of time.” He’s eating it anyways, it’s ‘weird’ eggs alright.

“Is that why you’re still waking up and eating breakfast at 3 in the afternoon.”

“You got it.”

“Am I gonna grow up around all this and end up like you?” The idle thought of her growing up her twenties surrounded by the less than usual upbringing that the military and Overwatch provided would leave her jaded.

He thinks about his response for a moment, at first thinking just to say ‘yes’, but… “You talkin’ to Angela much? Dr.Zeigler?”

“.. Uh…yes?”

“We’re nearly the same age and we started in Overwatch ‘bout the same time. Fareeha too, her momma was one of the head honchos for years, grew up from a tiny thing ‘round all this.”

“So it’s just you.”

“Fortunately for you.”

“Unfortunately for you, though.”

“I ain’t usually this fuckin’ depressive.”

“Having to hang out with me isn’t helping, I know.” She taps her fingers against the table frame, all too knowing.

“Now missy it ain’t like that-“

“I know that is it. You don’t mean it. I’m sorry that I accidentally made friends with that guy you don’t like.”

“It’s not like I don’t like him, either. S’really the opposite.”  They’re not avoiding the topic anymore. Hana’s a very curious girl- and with how much work she’s put into befriending Reaper, it might be good to know what this cowboy was to her man. “He talk a lot ‘bout the past?”

“You mean specifically Overwatch past, right? Not at all. He avoids it like the plague.”

“Even since Jack showed up?”

“.. Eh, maybe a little bit since the old guy showed up? But only about him.” Mccree doesn’t seem to like that answer- he bites his lip and stares back down to his dirty plate. “You were really close to Reyes?” She uses his real name to evoke the familiarity, dissecting between ‘Reaper’ and ‘Gabriel’.

“He wasn’t the kind of guy you paired up with strangers back when he wasn’t a ‘complete’ psycho.”

That’s not exactly the way she thought that was going to go. “You’re upset about the mission in Rio.”

“.. that’s what I’m thinkin’ bout right now, yeah?” They lock eyes again- he’s fairly deadpan but she’s wearing her confusion.

“Don’t you trust your boss?”

“I never trust my bosses. No one up top knew anything ‘bout Blackwatch. Do you know Blackwatch?”

“I have an extremely vague knowledge of Blackwatch.”

“The only things leftover from Blackwatch here are Reyes, Genji and myself. Everyone else was top shelf. Blackwatch didn’t work the same like Overwatch did. I don’t trust Reaper not to do somethin’ he woulda done back then, scaring those poor folks who didn’t know better.” He hasn’t broken eye contact, but his expression lifts into a cruel little smile.

“.. God, like what. Because he had shot people in Mexico, and they didn’t seem to care about that.”

Mccree laughs, rough and loud, echoing in the uninhabited kitchen. “Just you wait, missy. You wanna help me sneak a comm?”

\----

Athena sure does a lot of complaining but not a lot of stopping them from doing it. Maybe it’s a protocol of hers, to be annoying like a safety warning. They find an old receiver with no mic that plays out like a speaker instead of a tiny earpiece so that they can both hear, and then there’s a lot of waiting. She pulls out her laptop and shows off for the cowboy- who actually is having a bit of trouble keeping along with her movements, but not too much. Man, now he wants to see her in the meka. Where were they storing the thing on base? He hadn’t seen it yet- but then again, he hasn’t been to the large storage stations.

His phone finally vibrates in response to a ‘tell me when you land, me and d.va are listenin’ from Hanzo. ‘As you wish. Do not speak into the comms.’ ‘we cant, just speaker. ill messae you i guess if. whatever’

“You type like a ten year-old.” Hana mocks his jittery typing over his arm.

“He knows what I mean.”

The comm perks up, Jack, roll call. Hana chokes back a laugh then Reaper speaks his role and Mccree’s nose near wrinkles into itself in distaste. “Shush, we’re being happy observers now.”

“I promise you, shushin’ up ain’t a thing I’m fully capable of.”

“I’ll shove a sock in your mouth.”

It’s boring for a while for Mccree while Lucio goes off first- but he spots how nervous Hana is for him. Jesse guesses that’s why she was more encouraged to listen along with him. Reaper’s grumbling voice perks back into his ears, however, and Hanzo shortly after, as they’d found their target, or something leading to their target. Talon agents. Mccree hadn’t known it, but he’d met with Talon before. Shot Talon agents before. They were skilled but, the general rabble, nowhere near experienced enough to deal with seasoned Blackwatch vets- and Hanzo, who’d proven himself very capable the other day with his bow. When Reaper asks how good a shot the archer might be, the cowboy can’t help but laugh at the thought. “They’ve ain’t ever even seen each other fight.”

“So what? Back home, we fought with whoever, you just made it up as you went. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Trust me, that ain’t a sound plan.”

“Just trust your stupid friends!” A punch to the arm leaves him laughing, caustic.

“Never.”

They listen again as the two down in Rio exchange with the Talon agent that caught Reaper’s attention. Not a name he’s familiar with, not old Blackwatch, straight Talon dickery. Then Reaper requests to have a ‘private meeting’ with their new captive. Hana rolls her eyes straight back into her head when Mccree turns a /stares/ at her, shit-eating grin and all. “Just you wait, darlin’. I cannot wait.”

“You’re getting all hyped up for nothing!”

It doesn’t help that Reaper takes off his mic. It doesn’t help when Hanzo doesn’t- he leaves his on. Suddenly, Mccree is getting a lot more texts. Even more, they can hear the screaming from across the room, playing through Hanzo’s remaining comm. ‘I have some regrets’ ‘oh pray tell’ ‘Is this normal.’ ‘is what normsal. he turns off his comm.’ ‘He’s torturing a man.’ ‘thats normal.’ ‘You don’t understand.’ ‘r u. bothered’ ‘I was given no indication to expect this.’ ‘no indication my ass’

Hana is reading over his shoulder and Mccree in snickering like a child. “Well, y’know he’s still winnin’ the little wager we made.”

“Whatcha bet on?”

“He bet me everything would go fine, and it honestly sounds like it is, for now.”

Their concentration from what Reaper and Hanzo are up to breaks when Lucio calls for help. He mumbles to himself, “I wonder if that still counts…”, but Hana doesn’t listen, pushes a hand over his mouth to listen better. So far, the audio-medic is ok, but they’re fleeing now after being located by a different Vishkar technician than the one they’d meant to be with. Now they’re bringing the first one home- and Reaper and Hanzo are no closer to finding Widowmaker. Their time was sorely wasted.

Buzz buzz. ‘help.’ ‘what is he hurting your feelings’ ‘look at picture’.

When he opens the tiny file sent to him, Mccree is glad Hana isn’t looking. It’s blurry, but he makes out the blood well enough. ‘he cut off his fingers, thats about right’ ‘bit. He bit off his fingers’.

… That, that is new.

‘… play along with whatever he wants, I guess.’ Mccree rubs his face, grumbles, and his growing panic grabs Hana’s attention again.

“What, what did I miss- hey, show me!” He tugs the phone back and again, shoving her away at the face much like she had a moment earlier, “You told me you wanted to freak me out!”

“I lied!”

“I’ve fought in a war you know!”

.. Fair enough. He shrugs at her statement and then tilts the picture toward her. Squinting, “I… I can’t tell what’s happening.” Poking the device for a moment, she goes to Hanzo messages when as she stares, another comes in. “He’s remaining focused, I’m not worried for myself.”, she speaks allowed to Mccree, reading back up to what he had sent. When Hana spots the ‘fingers bitten off’, she makes a noise of disgust, poking out her tongue and squishing her head back between her shoulders. “OAWGH, GROSS, REAPER. COME ON.”

“I toldja but you ain’t wanna listen.”

“I mean like, I’m not SURPRISED, either!”

“What- you telling me you hung around with him for months, all friendly like, but ‘eating fingers’ isn’t a scratch off the list?”

“… I don’t know! I guess not! It wasn’t like I sat down, staring lovingly into his eyes and went ‘hmn, this strange man, I think he might mutilate some guys hands with his mouth one day’!”

Shaking his head, he leans back in his chair and listens to the comm clusterfuck that overtakes the radio. Lucio and Genji are back on board with the Vishkar tech, who names herself Satya Vaswani. He does a quick internet search of her name- She’s a… top ranking tech. How trap-ish feeling. Whatever, apparently, that was none of his business.

It goes quiet for a bit longer while Reaper and Hanzo take one last ditch effort to slip out Widowmaker. For a moment, it feels like they will get her- when Reaper starts speaking into the comm a little bit more like Reyes than Mccree would like to admit recognizing. When he leans forwards again, tilting the device towards himself, Hana shuts herself up, eyeballing the man’s change of expression. It’s dark and hurt again.

“Hey, Hanzo. Quick question.”

“Is this really the time.”

“Yeah. Why'd you come on this mission?”

“.. because I was asked too?”

“Who asked you.”

“Winston?”, his voice is hushed and hurried, Mccree hadn’t caught what they were saying just before Reaper changed his tone to catch his attention.

“No, not Winston.”

“If you are implying that the cowboy had something to do-”

“I never said that at all, but since you brought it up...”

“To be honest with you, when I said I would, he was extremely apprehensive. He did not trust you at all with my life, or anyone's life.”

 “Oh, huh. Well, I'm sure he's listening on the comms, or you'll just tell him all about this later, won't you.” Both of these things, Reyes. The gunslinger scratches into the table when he prosthetic grips into it.

“If you want me too? I would call tonight's adventure, very much including this moment, to be very incriminating against yourself.”

“I’m not going to get you shot. I'm going to get /me/ shot.”

“.. W- that's not better!”

Jack break in with a bark, “Do not, I repeat, do /NOT/ get yourself shot.”

“Quiet, Morrison, trust me. I'm already dead. I get shot all the time. And sometimes, you just have to put your foot in the water, and put a little...~trust~, in someone.”

Reyes’ is talking about Mccree. He knows that he is. Jesse hears Jack mumble it back, but with the quote more accurate, ‘faith’ in someone. Now it was Mccree who was about to get Reaper shot- because he’d given him the hope that if you put faith in someone, they won’t shoot you. Like Jesse hadn’t shot him, an obscene amount of years ago. “Nooo, no no no no…….”

Silence. Gunshot. Hana squeaks and dodges when he nearly flips the table, upends it enough that the speaker radio goes flying and clatters to the floor. It scratches into static before they can properly hear how it ends; Hana is yelling at him for his misbehavior, but he’s already out the door and deafened with rage.

\----

When the second carrier arrives, it’s such a masterful clusterfuck. Hanzo’s arm and back still /itches/ from the ooze that Reaper bled all over his side when required to haul his stupid ass back. Toa dd some extra irritation; the entire duration of the trip, and even now, the cowboy refused and refuses to reply to any messages sent- not from himself, not from Genji. They bark at each other like brothers do, hushed and in their native tongue, about the state of Mccree’s mental health. Genji knew he wasn’t really doing well, but he apparently judged the nature of ‘not well’ too optimistically. The cyborg is going to /hate/ to have to impose on his Master so shortly after arriving.

Hanzo barely recollects between scratching his flesh raw the way his brother greets this unfamiliar omnic with such affection- he sneaks towards his master with the intention of assaulting him unseen, but the mech gracefully avoids him at the last second, sending the cyborg careening to the floor with a thud and a slide. It’s when he laughs that the elder Shimada looks over from his ways away, still stuck to the carrier and waiting for all else to be gone before he attempted to leave and find his poor, stupid cowboy. The. ‘The’ stupid cowboy, not his.

He… he admittedly didn’t take his brother serious when he’d confessed one night that he’d fallen for an omnic. Though, he didn’t really confess it- Genji would never outright say he enjoyed the omnic more than as a helpful teacher, but Hanzo saw straight through his sibling’s demeanor. Even now, as he watches from a distance. Infatuated. In his youth, Genji gave his love away freely but fleetingly. It’s been years since he’s seen this omnic, but Genji treats the meeting like days gone. Unfortunate enough for his scrutinizing gaze, the expressionless visage made it impossible to tell whether the feeling was mutual. In his staring, however, he knows well enough when he locks 9 optics gaze with the irritable older brother.

“Ah, Master, I must apologize, that I have to leave you here for now. Do you have somewhere you can stay? I can take you to a room, first, and you can move your things. I just have something important I need to help get settled. It’s why he’s staring so.”

“-It’s not why I’m staring, but go ahead and lie-“

“All is well, my student. I had meant to greet you and then had down to my large friend in hanger 6. He was dropped off down there by a very nice young woman, but I doubt she stayed, and I’d like to make sure he’s not too offput.” Zenyatta completely ignores the Japanese sass tossed at them.

“Of course! You have your phone still, right? You think you might actually answer it if I message you?”

“Mnn, Genji, that might be slightly too hard for me, but I can certainly try.”

There’s a quaint number of pleasantries before the younger brother sends off his teacher and heads back towards Hanzo- Genji grabs his wrist from its place, tsking at the skinned arm, “Ah- stop scratching, it won’t help.”

“It’s harder than it seems.” He snatches his arm back, sneering at his sibling from behind the mask. “What are your plans? I would’ve thought you’d leave me again to be with your teacher.”

“He’s fine, and I told you I’d come help with Jesse. If anything, I should go alone and leave you here.”

\--

The Shimada brothers catch Mccree short ways from a room where apparently, Mercy and Jack have Reaper pinned in- and they are making an awful racket. They’re sure that the despondent man would be breaking in right about now- but Reinhardt and Fareeha stand before them, and Jack has told them to stay out and far away. Mccree is playing nice. For the moment. He looks unconcerned but listening. Hanzo is beginning to see all the flaws in his deception- he has tells in the furrowing of an eyebrow, the way his nose scrunches at every spoken word. His arms are crossed across his chest, that is normal, but the way his metal arm grips red lines beneath his shirt is not.

In a particular process, however, the elder Shimada stays quiet while his brother approaches. “… What’s up.”

For a moment, in the deadpan response, they think the cowboy won’t even respond, but a heavy sigh gives way to forced words, “The roof. Have a good trip?”

“Could’ve been better, but no one is dead.”

“That’s not true.”

“.. He isn’t dead.”

“He might as well be. I saw him before Reinhardt dragged him in.”

“He’ll get better.”

“Quit sayin’ that.” His words come out laced in spite.

“We don’t need to hang out around here, let’s go back over to-“

“No, /you/ don’t need to hang out ‘round here. Get gone, Genji, Hanzo.”

Playing the wall. The cyborg settles his hands on his hips, tilting a head- but he has his mask still on. Mccree should be far experienced enough in emotionally connecting with the visor, but it isn’t happening today. He feels like he’s more staring at something unfeeling, so his eyes flick over and lock with Hanzo instead. The man looks completely unenthralled to be here, familiarly deadpan. It grows quiet again in the far off room. “Jesse.” Genji speaks, despite not being faced any longer.

“What do you want from me.”

“To leave.”

“You ain’t my mom.”

“And he isn’t your father.” … Now, Hanzo isn’t going to interrupt this new, hard ass style of communicating with the man, but… Jesse’s head slowly turns back towards the emotionless visor.

“The fuck’re you gettin’ at.”

“You’re asking the situation to be in your hands, when it doesn’t need to be, at all.”

“No, ain’t gotta be in /your/ hands, Genji, you ain’t give a shit until now. You didn’t give enough of a shit to do anything about it til it was already said n’ done.”

The door slides open and the two combatants remove themselves in the middle of Mccree’s wordy tirade, bruised and weary. All look towards them as they leave, Mercy taken by the two guards with great concern, but Jack is free to listen towards the other three. He might not catch what exactly they’re saying, but he can hear an angry Jesse from a mile away at this point. Just to add some more uncomfortableness to his life. When the older man moves to approach, both Shimada’s catch the gunslinger posturing, stepping forwards with a fist- but Genji grabs an arm while Hanzo steps up and stops Jack a few feet from. “Stop, not now.”

“Not fuckin’ ever, that’s what you wanna tell me…?!” He roughly tugs his arm back from the cyborg, facing himself between the three of them, and finally, shuts down. However, he won’t sit here and play pretty any longer, and turns to stomp back off to wherever he feels like laying low. Genji tries to tail him, but his removing himself from the situation was not an invite to complete nonviolence; like an enraged horse, he whips around and gives him a metal punch to the chest that heaves the air from his lungs. He takes the hint, and with the shake of a head, returns to talk it out with Jack and his brother. In the absolute very least, he dissuaded the man from starting a fight out in the open. He can work on it more later.

\----

Why is he here. Why had he slipped into Mei’s office unnoticed, stolen the last of her alcohol, and wandered off. Why’d he drink all of it? He’s trying to fill a hole, but he isn’t even using the right poison.

In front of Jack’s dorm door, if he was paying more attention he might hear the telltale signs of Reaper warbling around, lost and confused, but Mccree’s brain is stuck on ‘Talk to Jack, you should talk to Jack about Reyes.’ When he finally settles a fist rapping against the metal, Jesse still manages to be surprised when the aforementioned wraith replies hoarsely from beyond the door. “Hey, Jack. Are you there?”

 “What do you want, whelp?”

“Are you fuckin- are you serious?” He immediately sets to fiddling with the lock- from a distance, he can hear Athena complaining about it, but Mccree knows full well that she doesn’t have much power of the areas in the dormitory section of the base. When the door slams open, the ghost sets on him, or rather, attempts too, but too furious to be trifled with lightly, he’s got Reaper by the coat lapels and throttles him before he can try. “Where is Jack.”

“How do you know he isn’t here.” Reaper sinks claws into the still meat arm restraining him, but Mccree is visually unaffected, he’ll feel the bruises and cuts later.

“No way sure as shit he wouldn’t be yellin’ at me by now.” Reaper grunts from feeling the floor beneath his feet migrate away from them- the gunslinger is hoisting him up by his collar, strength found within his fury. He pulls them from Jack’s room, and then slams the wraith into the wall to the side, pulling his face in close. His eyes are dark, baggy, tired. With a sniff, the wraith can smell the alcohol on his breath beyond the mask. Reyes knows and is nervous of this look from the ‘before’ of their long history, but Reaper doesn’t take it seriously- who could take this /cowboy/ seriously. “What, you still all outta smoke from getting’ your damn head blown off?” Mccree honestly tried to sound concerned, but from beyond the slurring haze, it’s toned with pure violence, like a threat. Reaper only chuckles in response. “And what’s so fuckin’ funny to you?”

“Are you /kidding/ me, Jesse? Are you kidding yourself? What is with, with all /this/? Who are you posturing for?” What, what is he posturing for? Like he didn’t know his old spark for bouts of anger that he’d in the past knew how to deal with so adeptly- but now, only gave him more and more irritation.

“Awh, darlin’, you remember my name? Colour me fuckin’ surprised.”

“How could I forget such a beautiful little failure such as yourself?”

“You never fuckin’ thought that.” Every time Reaper says something that is deigned to be ‘wrong’, Mccree gives the man a good shake and slam into the wall.

Reaper isn’t really fighting back, and Mccree doesn’t understand why he’s be so verbally abusive but unwilling to physically stop him. “I’m right here, speaking to you /right now/. I know what I think, and what I always thought.” Distantly, and maybe if in more sound of mind, Jesse could tell he was being baited.

The gunslinger, unfortunately, goes gaping for it like a starved dog. “What, that’s why you went and tossed me aside, Reyes?”

“Reyes is dead, boy. You, and Jack, and /Overwatch/, and /all that shit/. You did this to me, and /yourself/.”

“I didn’t do /shit/-“ but he’s interrupted by a bark to his side, his gaze snapping to who might intervene in their little heart-warming reunion.

“Jesse! I swear to fucking hell-“ Jack’s by himself, and blind from a lack of visor still, but he charges Mccree like a man without fear.

“No YOU, I swear to hell for you, you fuckin’ back water piece of shit. Lying to me, to my /face/-“ Reaper is content to sit limply in Jesse’s faltering grasp while the two of them bickered like imbeciles.

“What the hell did I lie to you about?!” Stopping a few feet before him, he gestures in confusion with shrugged shoulders and a shake of his head.

“You telling me that he’s ‘gettin’ better’? That you let him go out there and fuckin’, get himself hurt?”

“Aw, how thoughtful of you to care about me getting shot.”

“Shut the hell up.” He shakes the wraith for good measure, slamming him back into the wall again.

“Were you even listening to the comms? When, in that situation, was his getting himself shot /my/ fault.”

“Oh, no, I forgot, /nothin’s/ ever your fault, is it Morrison?”

“Alright, alright, reign it in for a minute here-“ Mccree’s placated minutely and momentarily by his old commander's change of tone, resting his grip slightly. With a tilted head and squinted eyes, he lets Jack continue. “You’re right. I did act like that. Today’s been a real good day for realizing my mistakes, so you’re in luck there.”

Mccree’s eyes glance down and over Jack’s body, he catches the rough, scabbed bites around his collar and sinking below his shirt line. A metal arm slips under Reaper’s neck so he can press and point at the other man with his free arm, “No matter what you do, you can’t help but act mighty, huh? Look at him, he’s got your blood on his fuckin’ claws! /LITERALLY/, literal blood! What did you keep lettin’ him do to you?”

His head lowers, /sighing/. “I am /not/ trying to sound mighty. I’m trying to sound the opposite, honestly. You sound real tired, Jesse.”

“The only thing I’m getting’ mighty tired of is your shit.” But, Jack isn’t wrong, he’s very, very tired. And very drunk. His ability to make full sentences is straight runoff from adrenaline.

“What part are you maddest about?”

“.. Nothin’s changed at all. He’s still a fuckin’ monster. He’s always going to be a fuckin monster.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s entirely true.” Reaper interjects- Mccree forces that metal arm into his throat, and it chokes him, but not enough to stop a tiny chuckle.

“Shut up.” His head is still turned towards Jack. “You ain’t givin’ me any idea that you’re doing him any good.”

“Maybe I’m not. But I’m doing something. What would you propose instead?”

He turns back to face Reaper, easing down on his trachea, “.. I dunno.”

Jack moves a bit again to stand closer, but the cowboy postures and rumbles, so he stays where he is. “You want a hand off on the reigns?”

“Like he’d give me that choice. ‘Sides, that’s what little girls are for, apparently.” Reaper opens his mouth just a bit to defend the Hana he was implying, but Mccree catches him with a choke far before the sound can come from his mouth. He laughs again instead.

“What if I was looking to go out for a while.”

“.. You lookin’ to leave? Don’t think the boys on top would let you.”

“I’d like to see them try to stop me. And yes, I’m thinking about it. Looking at him like.. this.” He gestures to Reaper, hand sweeping wide over him, “Makes me remember why I was out there in the first place.”

“.. Talon, right.”

“Yeah. And he told me so himself, last night, when he was thinking a little differently.”

“I don’t remember talking to you at all last night.” Reaper hisses, legitimately confused.

“You wouldn’t. You were… having problems with your head.” He nearly chuckles to remember, but chokes it down. He nearly has Mccree back down, the man still heaving with irritation, but not so much yelling anymore. Laughing will not make that better. “Jesse, I told you before, and I wasn’t lying. I want to do what I can to help. Not just him.”

“Don’t blame me for not takin’ you seriously on that. If I hadn’t done what you’d been to ask me that night years ago, maybe he wouldn’t have kicked me out like a useless dog.”

“That wasn’t him. It was Talon, I promise.”

“No, I was actually fuckin’ there, I promise /you/, Morrison. Outta his own mouth. Like a dog.”

“Here’s a peachy thought for the both of you.” Mccree’s head slowly turns back to the arrogant man beneath his arm, but lets him speak his peace. He wants to hear the vile things spouts in front of Jack to further prove his point. “You’re both wrong? Talon did nothing except give me what I needed to get the power I so rightly /deserved/,” His head wiggles at the other older man, but he doesn’t take the bait. “ and, and I would have tossed you out regardless of what you did, because you were a failure, and a fool. I raised you and you still fucked it up.”

He had his spare hand on the Peacemaker before Reaper could even finish speaking, knowing full well what he was going to finish with would deserve this. Even more now, when the old strike commander attempts to interject between them- the gun never points at Jack, but he clicks the telltale of the hammer, letting the blind man hear it. It stops him in his tracks. “Jesse, no.”

But he won’t talk to Jack anymore. “You wanna be outta my life again so fuckin’ badly you train wreck of a pile a’ shit.” Reaper hears the weapon as well, and thinks he’s had his head blown off enough times for the past little while he doesn’t need a repeat experience. A solid punch from his clawed hand should incapacitate a normal man, but the wraith is confused to meet the solid matter of his synthetic stomach, and Mccree continues to be unaffected. If only he could commit to memory at this point that Reaper seemed to be confused and forget the fateful, and 100% his fault, reason that Jesse had half his internal organs replaced. “I asked you, a /question/. I /SAID/, REYES, YOU WANNA BE OUTTA MY LIFE AGAIN SO BAD?”

“Sure! Fine, is that what you want me to spit out for you?”

It’s the worst choice of words for a man who had /just claimed/ not wanting to be shot in the face again. Even if, and even though Jack wants to intervene, he can’t react faster than the gunslinger can cock and fire his weapon. The Peacemaker presses up against his skull façade, and a shot rings off. The mask shatters off in sparks of shrapnel, leaving the other man’s face visible for Mccree to stare at- he hadn’t actually seen Reyes yet from beyond. He forces eye contact with the red glow of Reyes’ reconstructed, and Mccree simultaneously recognizes and sees how foreign he looks now. “Be free then, you god damned traitor.” Stuffing a metal fist inside the new hole he’d just shot out, Mccree rips at the mask to attempt at removing or at least, destroying the thing, the void what Reyes hid behind. He remembers, however, something else getting in the way of his old friends ‘freedom’, that stupid, broken fucking collar. With many bullets left in his gun, he spends the rest of his ammo into the choke around his neck. It’s a lot more resilient than the gunslinger gives it credit for, but not enough not to shatter its outer casing after two rounds- and then, he suddenly feels his pressing mass sink with a grunt into the wall beneath them. Reaper, in a cloud of smoke, sinks to the floor, and Jesse nearly thinks to kicking him, but he’s accosted by the man he’d forgotten about in the heat of the moment. It’s Jack, tackling him hard enough to the floor that they’re a few feet away now. It’s too late now for the cowboy not to be drunkenly satisfied with his overtop response- the older man throttles his neck and forces him to face him, “Are you in absolutely no control of yourself?!”

“Apparently not! Apparently, I never was!” Despite not doing much to stop himself from being tackled, he gives him a good kick and buck to the side, failing to remove Jack from his grasp on his collar.

“Alright, you listen here you little shit-“

“And why-“

“NO, YOU, SHUT. LISTEN.” He’d kept so calm beforehand, that when he actually speaks in fury, it shuts Jesse like a scolded child. “I’m going to leave now, and you’re going to walk away, and when anyone asks, I did this. “

“What- fuck, why? Why would you-“

“Just /do it/.” He moves to stand, hauling Mccree back on his feet with a pained grunt.

“Jack- they- They’re never going to believe me.”

“I don’t care. Fucking /get/.” With a solid push, he turns the growing sheepish man towards the far hallway, nearly shoving him off his feet again. He turns back to argue- but the /face/ and the pointed finger Morrison gives him makes him swallow his words. He still gives the older man a biting expression, but stamps off, hand raising to the shiner he’d definitely be sporting later, and the blood that oozed from his nearly broken nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i'm sorry the holidays ruined me i have so much work to catch up on bluh bluh bluh
> 
> i lost the entirety of this chapter once when my hard drive failed and rewriting stuff is hard


	9. ch9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a life without structure;
> 
> stress relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> half of this is porn. literally. tw for nasty scent kink, mentions of self harm.

“I would have earlier said I knew every inch of this place from my wandering, and yet.”

Hanzo is putting on a good face- for Genji had left him alone with his Omnic companion in a choice to go help Angela when the brothers had begun bickering instead of doing anything productive. There’s a way about him, Zenyatta, where at first Hanzo had been quite callous and reserved as he was with most strangers, but he works his way under your skin. It’s very hard to stay irritated with him. “I am still hoping he’ll simply realize his wrongdoings and show himself, himself.” He taps a metal foot on the ground, nearly as exasperated in their goose chase as they all were. It’s also very, very late at this point.

“.. Mn. I have one last place but- I would have no idea how he would get up there.”

“Would you be able to..?”

“Easily.” The omnic had wondered why Hanzo had led them both back into one of the large storage bays- unused, it more equipped to handle larger vehicles that Overwatch no longer had in service. It meant also that it had more scaffolding and places one desperate enough could jam themselves into- if they knew spots well enough. Hanzo is taken aback when Zenyatta points it out first- he’s being reminded a bit of someone else, having practiced looking up to find hideaways at this point-, and there’s a scrap of red hanging from the roof. How would he- wait there, stairs, and a ladder.. and some pipes… With some effort, yeah. Hanzo sighs, stretching out his neck to either side. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll wait right here. Call if you need help.”

The elder Shimada scoffs, raising an incredulous eyebrow. He doesn’t speak it, but he means, ‘what could you possibly do?’

“Should I speak how much like your brother you are, or…?” He’s teasing- but it it’s a jabbing tease, and Zenyatta does it purposefully in this situation- he watches Hanzo fight a short inner battle on whether or not to have an argument about it now, but alas, he has /things to do/. Fucking omnic. Fucking monk, honestly. Instead, shakes his head with a scowl, and begins his precarious ascent.

Without knowing the exact route, it’s hard to scale it with perfect stride, but there’s definitely an easy route to the vent that the cowboy has jammed himself into- and he’s mentally using the word ‘jammed’ on purpose, because he isn’t one-hundred percent sure how the fairly large man could’ve possibly gotten himself into where his serape lay, removed from himself and placed on the outside. He must’ve done this on purpose- he must’ve, eventually, wanted to be found. With a last leap of faith, the adept flings himself into the mouth of the vent, and pulls himself inside. The mouth of it is small- but inside, it’s very roomy.

He hears the click of a gun cock against his forehead, and looks up to the marksman with /daggers/. “Oh, and you’d just /shoot me/.”

“It’s temptin’.” It’s too dark to see right away, but the gun, it glows, along with small lights on Mccree’s chest and midsection.

“What do you wait for, then?”

“.. No bullets.”

The moment he affirms there’s nothing in his weapon, Hanzo bursts with fury, grabbing it from him and tossing the gun back down to the ground below; it clunks over pipes to the floor and very well startles the omnic below. It’s even more infuriating when Jesse responds to this with a tone of /offense/, like he wasn’t the one in the wrong here, and the archer fully crawls into the makeshift room to throttle him. Hanzo grabs him about the jaw, forcing eye contact between them, “How dare you, come at me, how dare you to threaten me after-“ but he stops, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Mccree’s face, bruised eye and dried blood down his nose. “What happened to your face.”

“I got punched…?” He tones it like Hanzo should know that by now.

“By who.”

“Uhh, by…. Jjjack.” That was an unusually delayed response.

“Why are you slurring.”

“I’m drunk.”

“Why are you /drunk/.”

“.. ‘Cause I was drinkin’.” He winks with the bruised eye, painfully, and smirking.

“No you fool, I mean-.” Before he can get further into his berating, a metal hand presses into his mouth. It smells like blood; he reaches up a hand to remove it before Mccree can transfer any of that dried or wet blood into Hanzo’s face, and tucks it back into the cowboy’s own lap. “Explain yourself.”

“You gotta be more specific than that, darlin’.”

“Why are you hiding up here, and yet, left a trail for me to find. If you’re drunk, how did you-“

“Sshh one at a time. I’m hiding up here ‘cause I’m stupid when I’m drunk.”

“Maybe you would consider being drunk less often, then.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. I left somethin’ up so you could come join me, if you wanted.”

“Me specifically?”

“Or Genji, I guess? Or whoever felt like climbin’ up.” His sentence trails off, mumbling. Just a stupid, lonely cowboy. He doesn’t admit is, but he’s quite happy his preference is who joined him.

“How did you get your drunk self up here?”

“I went the right way.”

“… So, you left a hint that would lead whoever followed it into a harder trail?”

“I sure did.”

“You’re a jackass.” Hanzo receives another wink, and pointing fingers, like guns. “Do not try to blame this entirely on your alcoholism.”

“I’m not an alcoholic- I haven’t drank in weeks…” Over the course of the conversation, Jesse’s spine jellifies, he’s laying completely down in the vent. In the adjusted low light, Hanzo sees that this isn’t a newer hide away- things are carved into the walls, painted in places, there’s a pillow, blankets in the corner. The airflow that passes by is leisurely, it’s likely been modified at the source.

“Do you come here often.”

“Used to. Now that you know ‘bout it, guess I’ll have to find somewhere else.”

“I will keep it a secret if it means, reliably, you would be found here.”

“Now don’t think I ain’t spot the omnic down there, either-“

“I wouldn’t be worried about him either. Get up now, you can’t stay here any longer.” He slaps at his leg, jostling from his jellified lay.

“And why the heck not.”

“You’re in trouble.”

“Am I still? Really?”

“You got into a fight, and we’re /trying/ to pretend we’re a pseudo-military facility. It doesn’t matter if the fight wasn’t your fault.” Hanzo is beginning to disbelieve any stories that this isn’t somehow Mccree’s fault.

“Alright, alright. Go down’n get your new omnic friend, I’ll meet’cha.. Somewhere.”

“Don’t wish to show me the easy way out?” Sidelong, Hanzo glances at the vent opening behind him.

“Where’s the fun in that.”

“Meet me at my room.”

“Ooh lala.”

“/Don’t/.” The cowboy receives a solid kick for that, sharp hoof toes poking into flesh, but he chuckles it off and shuffles off the opposite direction, and into a smaller side vent. Hanzo silently agrees not to follow, working with what Mccree is giving him at the moment, which isn’t very much. Behind the practiced humoured words and lazy posture, Hanzo spots where the gunslinger is biting at the bit; hands clenching, nose creasing with his eyebrows, still refusing to make any long-lasting eye contact. He is a very, very irritated man. He did earlier start the conversation with a gun, albeit empty, to his head.

As he said he would be, Zenyatta is still on the bottom floor, legs crossed and waiting; but there’s a revolver in his lap, supposing to confiscate it when it fell. His head tilts up to spot the archer on his decent- his lone decent-, but he doesn’t rise from his sit until Hanzo is steps away, “No luck?”

“No, he was in there, but I couldn’t coax him down the hard way, he’s extremely drunk. And injured.”

“Oh no.”

“I’m fairly certain he did something to deserve it.”

“Oh, well.” Zenyatta shrugs, huffing back a laugh. “Do we have a plan to remove him, then? Or am I asking Genji to come back.”

“No, it’s fine, he says there’s a back way, and we’re going to meet up at my room.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I hunt him down again and beat him.”

“Ah-“ The omnic catches himself before he makes a joke(‘Not to death, I hope’), hiccupping, and quickly changing his train of thought, “Seems fair. I will leave you to it, then? You know how to contact anyone if you deem it necessary.”

“I do. Feel free to wander.” He probably has this settled, probably.

\---

It’s a quick meet at his room, and then they’re on again to where Dr. Zeigler has requested them to come together. Hanzo is actually impressed to round the corner and spot him, leaning heavily on the door frame, hat pulled over his eyes. Arrived quite a bit before him, it seems, and whatever he’d been drinking is either wearing off or wearing thin on his brain. Along with his possibly broken nose that he keeps pressing against with cold metal fingers, Hanzo wishes they had a moment to get him something colder, but in how long it took them to find him and to meet up again, they’re on a time constraint.

Or maybe Hanzo just needs to take a lesson from Jesse’s book on not always needing to arrive before anyone else. Alone in the common room, the cowboy takes to standing rather than sitting, despite Hanzo attempting to coax him otherwise. “I can see you wavering from here.”

Propped up against the wall now, Mccree refuses to relent. “I’m fine, thanks mom.”

“If you fall over and hurt yourself more-“

“And what, if I do.” Oh, he has nothing left to fake now, his word are dripping in vitriol, as much as he regrets it the moment they come out. Perhaps, he’s saving what fake calm he has left for the doctor when she turns up.

“It will make this more inconvenient...?” Hanzo is, gratefully enough, of the toughest skin. He is completely unaffected by the sass.

“You thinkin’ I’m gonna complain about that.”

“I don’t understand.” Why he wants to be a prick about all this.

“What.”

“Why you’re going out of your way to make this worse. Is this, or is this not, your fault.” It’s a little hard to intimidate him, standing so close, at around five inches shorter. It, however, works. Mccree’s nose wrinkles in distaste at the questioning, looking away. “You, Reyes, Morrison. You know, that /no one else/ knows what went down?”

“Yeh, why the hell else we’re all gonna jam into a room about it. Reaper ain’t dead so what does it matter.”

“Pseudo-military organization. Everything matters- weren’t you in Overwatch for /years/?”

Mccree scoffs, breaking a smile- but it’s pained, sneering. “Hey, from what I hear since we’re all up to curing ‘Reaper’ now, and you can ask him, I’ve always neglected that part of this whole scenario.”

“Is this, or is this not your fault..?”

“Of fuckin’ course it’s my fault.” He sinks his head into his chest, snuffing into his hand, “And Jack, of all people, said ‘for he left I should just pretend he did it and I don’t got a fuckin’ clue in hell why he’d-“

Hanzo had been enjoying the vent that Jesse had finally begun to spew, when the door opens, letting in Tracer, one of Hanzo’s new ‘bosses’, he sees in his mind, and a younger girl, Hana, he’s only vaguely familiar with. Nobody is in good spirits, which is very strange for Lena, he takes into mental consideration. The two of them have some kids in trouble- was Mccree older than him? Hanzo had never asked. He doesn’t seem to act it. Neither did his brother. No wonder they got along so well in the past.

No one speaks, and neither of them mind, but Hanzo catches the youngest of them up by an arm when she makes a curious approach to the cowboy still leaning on the wall. He’s aware she isn’t Japanese, but mumbles at her in his own tongue when he catches Mccree tense at her advance; “-Please, not now.-“ Thankfully enough, she obliges either to his words or the way he grips her arm, beckoning her backward, and takes up one of the two couches in awaiting the arrival of the doctor- Lena following shortly after.

It’s a startle when the door pushes open again, immediately Mercy barks, and Hanzo attempts not to metaphorically piss his pants. “Alright, I can only hope, for my one grant of luck today, that everyone has beaten me here.” Her existence still gives the archer anxiety, not helped by how annoyed she looks. Another woman is right behind her, Fareeha, and while they exchange glances, she’s more interested in keeping Angela in line and focused. Between her targets, the doctor chooses Mccree first, whose spine straightens and turns to face her with a forced neutral expression. She gets the first few words of her questioning out when she stops, looks up his face, and down to deep claw marks in his neck. “I’ve already been informed now of your dwindling mental state, so I’m not comforted to hear you’d been in any kind of fight but-…. You..”

“If I told you ‘it’s not what you think’, would you even-“

“Don’t even try to lie to my face. I didn’t believe it before, and now, seeing you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Angela.”

“Don’t, don’t you ‘Angela’ me. You know, even if, someone, Morrison was the one that started the fight, you aren’t a child, and could have come forward at any time.”

“Forward with what.” His eyes are jammed off to the side, vacant.

“Letting yourself go like this! Not once did you not put up some, some fake good story..?”

He doesn’t have any responses for her, but the tirade continues. Or, it would, but Hana perks up, quite ready to receive her verbal thrashing and be done, “Jack said he would take the flack for this, and I don’t know what’s wrong with that.”

“What’s wrong with that, is that he isn’t here to take /anything/.”

“So, you’re going to punish Mccree just ‘cause he actually stayed?”

When she puts in that way, Angela’s nose scrunches into her face; her eyes close and she sighs a long, defeated tone. “You know what. I’m too tired for this right now, we will all have a nice long talk in the morning. Mccree, Ms. Song, you will both report to your dorms until further notice. If I don’t see you both here at 8:00 tomorrow, I’m going to hunt you down and you won’t like it.” Hana knows that’s 100% directed at Jesse, but she points a finger at Hanzo as well. She isn’t berating the archer, though the attention makes his heart sink, he tries not to jump. Consciously, he knows instead she is giving Hanzo the task of making sure Mccree… stays on task.

“Yes ma’am.” Mccree relishes in the freedom, but plans to head directly to his dorm- Hanzo trails along to make sure of his commitment, and catches Fareeha’s addition of ‘make it 10, we’re sleeping in tomorrow’. 10, am, sharp.

Hanzo treats this entire situation like some grand, uncomfortable mission. Since he’d agreed with Winston now, that yes, he was a part of this new Overwatch, until something better could snag his attention. And in lieu of a real mission with the standard fighting, infiltration, and otherwise ‘normal’ action one might see, they stuff their time dealing with the PTSD and other mentally ridden masses after years of combat. At first, he’s considered it unprofessional- but remembers that he also, was one of these people. Logically, he still is, not ‘was’. Unstable, Hanzo hopes he keeps his own issues more secret than this, but also, once tried to punch the good doctor for attempting to treat an innocent concussion. He couldn’t hold Jesse’s emotions against him. It was just something he needed to… work on. Knowing full well how adept of a fighter the cowboy was on the field, it was definitely the kind of thing worth working on. Besides, his friends still seemed to enjoy his company despite.

Hanzo’s own company doesn’t seem to be appreciated at the moment, however. When the cowboy reaches his room, he stares down him with narrowed slits, half between glaring and simply succumbing to a headache. “You jus’ gonna keep stalkin’ me.”

“You have proven yourself incapable of holding your own schedule. You have somewhere to be tomorrow morning, and I am not letting you forget this somehow. “ He’s greeted with cold silence, but eventually he breaks eye contact, and his face softens, staring off to the side. Mccree is agreeing with him. “You said so yourself. You were never one for the military part of this operation, the structure. I am thinking very much so that someone else once told you what you were doing with your life.” Hanzo doesn’t speak his name, but they both know who he means.

“Fine, whatever, it’s your life.”

Mccree’s room is big, and a bit off from anyone else. He vaguely remembers that this wasn’t originally where the cowboy stayed- he was closer to Genji and the others before, but moved here recently. It’s a double bed inside, and a sectioned off bathroom. A glance inside leads that it isn’t just a toilet in there- there’s a standing shower, and its bigger than the average. “Who’s room was this once.”

“Who do you think? Someone important.” He winks, tossing his hat on the floor; his serape follows it shortly to the pile.

“And you just claimed it for yourself.”

“No one else was usin’ it. If he wants it back, he can haul his ass back to base and stop runnin’ away like a fuckin’ baby.”

Morrison’s. Makes sense. “You prefer to be further away from your friends?”

“I prefer-“, he interrupts himself, launching onto the double mattress and muffling himself with the pillow, “Ah lrhgr brd.” Lifting his head up to gasp, he answers further, “’Sides. If you wanted to stay the night, I’d dare you to try to fit with me on one’a those single beds.”

“You once slept on top of me on a couch.” He was drunk then too, so why would he remember.

“… I forgot.”

“So, your nose isn’t broken then?” He mentions it after Mccree slams his face directly into the pillow without complaint.

“Probably not.”

“If it hurts, you should be more gentle.”

“I don’t care.” The conversation goes dead from there, and with no further argument, Hanzo lays casually down beside him. Mccree tucks himself hard into the corner after shuffling out of his shirt; after half an hour or so, his pants find themselves tossed with a foot haphazardly to the other side of the room as well. Hanzo stays up a bit too late reading on his phone on the other side of the bed with a leg overhung, but is doing his best to give the uncomfortable sweaty man as much room as he desires to need.

The relief Hanzo feels is palpable when, after an hour, the other man settles the hell down and snores, laying sideways towards the wall, but with his face still jammed into his pillow. He tries to keep to himself, but it’s hard not to be distracted. Eyes lingering away from his phone, the archer spies in the low light the soft lines of scars that etch across his back, his side, where his flesh turns synthetic. Much akin to his siblings- same maker, he assumes, Dr. Ziegler. The attachments and tubes there whine incessantly. Hanzo hadn’t noticed until he stared them down, and now it’s hard to ignore- perhaps the constant drone has made the cowboy insane like some sort of tinnitus. It’s probably not that simple of a problem, but Hanzo muses the idea with a growing smirk, huffing a quiet laugh.

For a moment, he thinks he’s sated himself back on his phone, but Jesse shifts, groaning an uncomfortable tone when he reaches up to scratch the wounds around his neck, and his stuffed nose- all unconscious still, Hanzo is assured by his nonsensical mumbling and the way he turns back into his pillow after a moment. However, as he reaches his arm up to stretch, the Hanzo is greeted with the scent of unwashed, past drunk cowboy. The first response is to gag- just from the strength of it, but he knows himself too well. Sinking into a lay, his phone is discarded to the floor beside the bed, and he tries to ignore it, squeezing eyes shut. Bad brain. It's sleeping time now.

In the silence, there’s a moment he might actually find himself becoming asleep- until he remembers it isn’t silent. Mccree’s augmentation is whining still- and now that’s he’s lying alongside him, it’s even closer to his ear. Prying into his head. And again, so close between them, with each shallow sleepy breath, Hanzo snuffles against his will, sighing and lifting up a head to stare down at himself.

Honestly, Hanzo- he argues with himself, but a hand trails down between his legs. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been enthralled by a situation with Mccree. On the couch, though, he was drunker still than this, and he was less.. frustrated than this, was able to keep his hands away from himself. Mccree hadn’t smelled quite so ‘awful’. It would be good stress relief, he vaguely lied to himself? Tomorrow and the following days were going to be unpleasant. And it would also be a lie to say he hadn’t been interested in the other man’s body near the moment he had the time to take a good look at him. Tall, rugged, handsome. It was near bliss when, without prompting, or without any kind of effort, that night on the couch when he laid against him. How uncomplicated it was in the moment. And now again, sleeping in his room. Maybe it was a bit unfair to the sleepy cowboy to ‘use’ him in this manner. But he doesn’t touch Jesse at all, no.

Hanzo fondles himself for only a minute before he remembers there’s a separated bathroom here. With the softest of motion, he slips from under the sheet he’d crawled under earlier, and wanders off silently to the bathroom to ease his strain in peace. If there was one thing they all needed on their plate, it wasn’t waking up to your barely an acquaintance unwantingly masturbating in bed with you. It was thrilling to Hanzo, the idea of it, but he is easily just as pleased by the voyeurism of doing it in the bathroom a thin wall away.

As a last plea to his bad habits, he neglects to shut the door fully, a thin crack of light missing the bedframe by inches. With how heavy a sleeper he’d proven himself in the past, Jesse should not be even vaguely roused by this. The bathroom is very much in wake of the cowboy’s own bad habits- there’s a wet towel on the floor, two wet towels at different stages of old-ness, underwear, an old shirt. Soap residue all over the sink shelf. Hanzo wondered a moment if there was anyone spare to even do bedroom hygiene checks- but, probably not, and instead of lingering on it, his half erection pulses at the thought of the used underwear on the floor. Idling on his heels, bare toes reach and linger over the fabric as he thinks it over- now, if by chance, Jesse wakes up, and sees you masturbating in the bathroom, that is embarrassing, but easily shaken. If he instead wakes up and sees you masturbating with a fist full of his underwear in your face….

Leaned over the sink, he barely pulls his pants down, favouring the restriction. They’d obviously been on the floor for a couple days now, the hint of water mildew and stale sweat, but it doesn’t overpower what makes Hanzo’s poor penis uncomfortably hard while he ignores it for the sake of ignoring it. Like that familiar sweat when Mccree had adjusted his arm or craned around his head, but intoxicatingly different. He waits until he’s twitching at the knees, a right-hand fistful of underwear jammed in his face, to reach down and settle his erection. Gently, at first, crossing legs, he stares at his own face in the mirror, entranced. He squints his eyes shut just in time for the door to move.

You know, Hanzo would admit to himself, that he’d left the door open for a reason. At the tiny inkling idea that, despite the heavy sleep and the remnants of intoxication, that Mccree would, in fact, arise, and bother the archer while he fucked with himself and a pair of dirty underwear. But it was only supposed to be a thought to keep his fetish ridden mind as ease. Caught up with himself, the tiny creak of the door hardly grasps Hanzo’s attention, but in a second he realizes the meaning behind the noise, and whips around to(only in his underwear now, mind you.) Mccree, leaning on the doorframe with a look of pure, sleepy amusement. There’s a long pause where’s he’s laid out before him, like some sort of desperate, horny teenager, before terrible instinct leads him to violently toss his ‘prize’ to the side, and words spill from him in excuse- “I-I didn’t just come here to do this, I did mean to stay with you for the benefit of-“ but Mccree stops him, a hand raised, a ‘shhhhhhh’ drawling out until Hanzo’s stammering disappears.

“’Course you didn’t, darlin’.”

“I didn’t.. It just… came up… and you were asleep….” Mccree relishes it how, so suddenly, how sheepish the man becomes. He also relishes in that the attention does absolutely nothing to ruin Hanzo’s erection, tucked between crossed legs and pants, the tip gleams with a drool of pre that already blotches the material around it.

Jesse takes in the sights a moment while he thinks, and then with the still raised hand, points downwards and spins an index finger. “Turn back around.”

“.. But-“

“Or, tell me to go back to bed.” The cowboy shrugs, exuding nonchalance.

There’s a good chance this is some sort of cruel trick, Hanzo thinks to himself, but before he can garner the thought to tell Jesse off, he turns on heel, back to timidly facing the mirror. From a glance, he can see Mccree behind him- he pushes from the doorframe, back and forth, taking in the sights again of the archer’s backside instead. He’s seen it before, from the showers that one day, but enough. Not hiding frustration beneath it. Hanzo’s nearly thrown to turning back around when Jesse approaches him from behind, but he’s frozen in place, and shortly enough rough hands slink up to either side of his chest, and pull up his shirt, and crawl up his skin. Not as rough as he’d imagined them to be, honestly, but cold metal fingers catch on the softer skin beneath his armpits, making Hanzo shudder, skin pricking. If he hadn’t already been chilled at either hand that wander his chest now, his skin would be in full revolt when in a final bet to ease him, a bristled face wriggles past loose hair to nip at the back of his neck- and Jesse mumbles to the flesh there, “Shoulda known better.”

Hanzo tries to turn to face him again at the implication, but Jesse has him rooted there with hands gripped into pecs. “I’m not lying, I wasn’t here just to.. get in with you….” Stammering again, from beneath his shirt collar, the flesh hand reaches up to muffle against Hanzo’s mouth. It awkwardly bunches all the fabric of his shirt there.

“I didn’t mean that, I meant, you’re just as horny as your brother is, aren’tcha.”

Oh. “I… was always better at keeping it a.. secret.” He shrugs, unintentionally jostling Jesse’s face.

“Yeah he said he was a playboy when he was younger. Seemed to imply you were stuck up.”

Hanzo scoffs at that, his own hands finally relaxing enough to settle where Jesse’s wander. “I regret now that, apparently, I am now the whore-ish sibling.”

Mccree nips his neck again, laughing, “Nah, I fucked your brother too.”

“Who hasn’t fucked Genji.”

“I mean like, real recently.” It’s probably a good thing to mention to someone you’re fondling- not everyone takes lightly to the admission of fucking around the family.

“I guess then, I just haven’t caught him doing anything so foolish.”

“It’s just me and you here. I ain’t seein’ no ‘caught doin’ somethin’ foolish.” Actually, come to think it, Hanzo had been vaguely aware of Mccree’s own mood for laying what he likes, but not aware of who exactly he spends time with.

“I might gut you for this information.”

“Oh well, I better make myself worth not guttin’ then, don’t I…” He’d taken to gently petting up the very well built man’s chest and abs for the moment they warble on about his sibling, but now, his fleshed hand reaches down to stroke at Hanzo’s poor, neglected cock. He catches up at the trail of hair, however, when he feels Hanzo tense up nervously. “Or, I could go back to bed. Mean I’d just be whacking one out at the thought a’ you doin’ the same a’ room away, but you were about to do me the same favour, so I’d be thinkin’ turnabout is fair play.”

Mccree lets him think it over; whether or not this little ‘interaction’ was a good choice for tonight or if they might postpone to a more appropriate date. Logically, yes, they have things to do in the morning that staying up late and, ahem, ‘exercising’, might not be good for. Instead, his dick pulses under the stress of, for a long while now, remaining untouched. Hanzo folds under the pressure of the blood loss from his brain to between his legs, and presses back against Mccree with a hoarse groan. To somehow his surprise, the cowboy is already quite heated himself. In addition to that surprise, though Hanzo might’ve guessed from keen glances at loose pants, that the cowboy was the kind of endowed that made his knees weak at the thought. Now instead he wonders if they were simply in the works for a mutual masturbation or if the cowboy intended to ride him in the manner he sorely craved.

When Hanzo doesn’t deny him with words and grinds on him instead, whining, he continues his reach down past the hairline he’d taken refuge in to the absolutely weepy dick beneath. It twitches in Mccree’s palm at the sudden intrusion, and Hanzo takes to worming back away from the touch, but Jesse isn’t interested in letting him weasel his way free. With his remaining prosthetic left to grope his chest, from the height difference Jesse’s mouth pries at the side of Hanzo’s head, past hair again, and into his skin, nipping there idly while the archer squirms. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his own hands between Jesse’s, but eventually one settles on the tiddy groper, and the other reaches back, settling on top of Jesse’s erection that still lay restricted from underwear. To Hanzo’s amusement and awe, it doesn’t keep beneath the material while erect; the tip escapes the waistband with abandon. It’s a bit that Jesse had pulled them down, but a lot that he was simply.. Ahh, so big.

Creaking past the deep pleasure in being groped like this, Hanzo peeps, “Mnn, I apologize, but…”

Mumbling into his flesh, he settles momentarily to give the other a moments rest to speak unflushed, “Don’t be sorry. What?”

“Do you intend to… just… this….?” Mccree wants to laugh at, even now, how reserved he still manages to be.

“I intend to do whatever you wanna let me do, sugar.” If Hanzo wants to just play around a bit, that’s fine with him. If Hanzo wants to let him bury his cock in that ass, hell. Ain’t nobody catchin’ Jesse Mccree complaining. “What, you think it won’t fit.”

“There’s nothing in here to.. ease that.”

“Ohhoo hoo, I’m prepared for all things, darlin’. If you are…” His hand slips from Hanzo’s cock, and slides back around to his ass, squeezing it under palm a moment. Though the other man hesitates to the touch, a finger prods around his hole, eagerly, but without lubrication, uninserting. His metal hand becomes occupied as well, and slipping out from a shirt and reaching to the mirror, pops it open like a cabinet. Of course. With a lean from the reach of his arm and the other hand still idly poking his asshole, Hanzo peers inside the shelf- and, not only is there lube in there, but there are /sex toys/.

“-… How? You haven’t left base-!” He doesn’t mean to sounds so weird and desperate when he questions, overstimulated just a touch; Mccree laughs, softly, when he returns his arm with the aforementioned bottle.

“I woulda thought during the fall that a lotta these rooms would been cleaned out, but hell, this room was basically untouched when I found it. Those are all.. well, the ‘previous owners’.”

“.. Is it still… ‘good’?” He questions, while Jesse is already slicking up his fingers.

“It don’t go bad. And I washed everythin’ good. Don’t you worry your little head, darlin’.” Hanzo wants to tell him, 'yes, it entirely does', but with that, and with Hanzo attempting not to wriggle himself away, the same fingers that had been prodding him early return, now wet and slippery. One slides in easy, and, slightly out of practice, Hanzo’s back straightens at the intrusion. “Oh, now if you go all like that to a hand I don’t think you’re gonna get me to fit.” Mccree teases, but only sort of. It’s a very legitimate concern.

“Ahh-! It’s just.. It’s been a while, I’ve fit worse.”

“Oh really?” Now working in digits slowly, Jesse sinks his lips back over Hanzo shoulder, musing the flesh there with teeth and mumbling. There are going to be marks in the morning at this rate.

 Twitching in his legs at the intrusion and the mouthing, Hanzo still manages to reply. “I had told you, despite s-secrecy, that I am an unfortunate just as much a ‘slut’ as my sibling. Maybe, with age, I’ve tamed down slightly than my youth…”

“So you ain’t take a dick this big in years.” Very humble of you, Mccree.

“.. /A/ year, maybe.” Hanzo takes a moment to think about what he had been doing before his brother’s rude interruption of his lifestyle.

“.. Shit, you ain’t tamed down at all.!” He teases again, easing down another digit. Much to his spoken experience, Hanzo so easily relaxes against him; unalike someone he’d expect so outwardly uptight.

He’s confused when Hanzo reaches down to stop his fingers from fucking him, pulls them from himself with a slick sound and a huff of his own; Mccree questions it with a confused tone, but easily allows it. Before he can question further, Hanzo shuffles about in front of him, and then down to his knees, still uncomfortable roped by his only half-off pants. It’s easy to tell what he’s getting at, and as Jesse had said earlier, he’d intended to let the man do whatever he let be done. Jesse levels his hands on the sink now, watching down while Hanzo slips his erection from its waistband and underwear prison; he tugs the material to just barely down enough on his thighs, and with the removed pressure, Jesse dick bounces lovingly into his face. He expects Hanzo to be slightly more patient, but it barely takes a second before he’s nuzzling down in the crux of his cock and his thigh, sniffing out the flesh there and stroking the erection pressed to his cheek gently; Hanzo may not have as much facial hair as Mccree does, but the prickling makes him flinch and giggle just a bit. The smell of him might not be considered ‘better’ when it's fresh, but it’s new, and beautiful, and Hanzo replaces Mccree’s fingers with his own, still full well expecting them to fuck later.

But he isn’t one to be kept bored. Near lazily, Hanzo pulls up from his crotch sniffing to the long tip before him, and idles it into his mouth, slow and soft. Already pent up from the encasement and the groping, fingering earlier, he tastes the scent he’d inhaled earlier alongside the wet of pre. As much as he’d thought to take his time, excited, his remaining hand levels to a thigh, and he dips down over the length; from the cold start, he makes it nowhere near to the base, simply tonguing the bottom with want. From the effort, though, Hanzo earns one of Mccree’s pillared hands to the back of his head, the prosthetic; it pries into his hair and takes a fistful of it into his loose grasp. With the new encouragement, Mccree pressures bits and bits more, holding there and bucking minutely into the tightness of his throat, pressing nose to the heady scent of pubes. He’d thought to be more gentle, knowing full well his girth was one not many could suffer through, but it’s Hanzo who chokes himself first, and the encouraging tones of desperation garbling from behind his length get him completely for roughhousing his mouth. And honestly, it’s the blowjob from heaven at this point. Much, much experience.

Too much experience. Caught off-guard by his own thrusting into Hanzo’s drooling self, he pulls back when the climax catches up, whining a warning to his partner along with a bending of his leg; but Hanzo will have none of it, and ignoring the rough pull on his hair, chokes back the length another long hard second. Jesse can hardly stop himself, and won’t; he bucks out his climax with well-used frustration, and Hanzo catches most of it, coughing back when he stumbles, but only leans back enough that the tip of his cock still remains, tonguing, ringing out with a hand the remnants of his cum. Eager to take it for himself. It’s a stunning revelation that Hanzo had one hundred percent not been lying to him about his hidden sexual tendencies, and how he lays it before him, drool and cum lingering down his lips. In that secrecy, though, it’s biting to think that he’d never be able to share the imagery, to risk the man’s ire. To give away a fuck like this would be the worst. Mccree has no regret now to letting the man cling to him so for the past while that they had been here- not that he really ever regretted Hanzo’s company without fantastic fellatio sessions.

Hanzo regrets a bit at how fast he spends, and after letting Jesse(and himself), catch his breath for a minute, “Will that be all…?” And how, how can Hanzo tease from between his legs, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, chin drooling with glistening white and clear fluid. His poor drenched shirt and pants beneath.

“Oh come on, it’s not all just me firin’ a quick shot-“

“From the shooting range that one day before, I should have no excuse to being surprised…”

Jesse tugs his hair again, gently leaning Hanzo’s neck backward, before spreading the sticky mess up his face with the other hand. There’s no complaint, and Mccree notices, also, that Hanzo was still spreading himself out with fingers between his legs. “God, with that mouth who can last long-?!” He snarks at him, jokingly, but sort of not. He’d been teased of his lack of stamina in bed before, but knows exactly how he is about it.

Hanzo is ready to jack himself off with his own fingers and hand, when with one squinted eye peering before him, catches the other man, still towering above, still fondling his package. In the short few minutes they bicker, he’s already half hard again. “Mn?”

“’nless you’re done, sugar.”

“I could find myself not being done with you.”

“Hardy har.”

Hanzo moves to stand again, wavering in his hips from the now looseness of his ass. With a solid motion, Mccree grabs his hips and turns him mirror facing again; a hand trails up his back, pulling up the shirt to reveal the tattoos beneath. He’d noticed them before, but now Mccree traces them, up his back to his arm, and down again, to where the dragons taper at his ass. It’s a soft, gentle stroking. “You feeling affectionate now, cowboy? After fucking my throat?”

“What can I say. I ain’t gettin’ a good look at you before, you know, you make a habit outta wearin’ long sleeves.” Lifting the shirt, he tries to encourage Hanzo to remove it, since it’s all wet and sticky, but he doesn’t seem to like the idea. Knowing full well that Mccree is taking in the imagery of him at the moment.

“Maybe you could keep it that way.”

“You make a habit outta fuckin’ in your clothes.”

“I do.”

“Funny.” With his pants barely pulled down, even his legs are hard to see. Maybe he’s embarrassed by the scars his prosthetics provide. Unwilling to strain the situation further(and losing his already precarious erection), Jesse bites back into his shoulder, and levels his cock with the now loose for him hole.

Well, supposed loose. Even now, slicked with its own layer lube, the tip breeches and Hanzo strains; thick and hard, his erection is less forgiving than easily controlled fingers. Jesse is about to pull back when Hanzo demands of him, “Just do it-!”

Mumbling into his ear, he bites at the skin at the tip before responding, “What, just dig into home like you made me do to your throat.”

“My preferences are clear.”

It’s definitely well lubricated enough he isn’t worried about tearing flesh. With a shrug, and a hushed chuckle, both hands grip deep into either hip of his ride’s, and he presses, slowly at first, until he gets far enough in he isn’t afraid of slipping out without guidance from his hand. It’s then when Mccree gives Hanzo what he’d asked for, and solidly, digs a rough thrust to flattening with a bounce against his ass. Having remained fairly hushed this entire encounter, moaning barely when being fingered and jacked off, and gargling just as quietly around his cock before, it’s a bit jarring when he yelps- but it’s not pure pain, just admittedly a bit.. cramped. On his tipped toes for reach, when Mccree pauses to let him adjust to the sudden intrusion, the lack of motion is unallowed; he jerks back into his partner, neck craning down into the sink bowl and whining into its surface. Fine enough, Jesse makes no complaint, it’s a tight fuck at first but it’s not uncomfortable. For him, at least. Hanzo, however, can’t seem to stop warbling now; while it doesn’t quite reach the strength of his initial cry, he’s a constant source of groaning, stuttering with each jostling thrust of a pace that is unforgiving. Beside his ear, Jesse can hardly help but join in on him; gruff, hoarse little noises that breathe shivers down Hanzo’s back.

He lasts longer than he did with Hanzo’s very effective blowjob- not from lack of pleasure, this was as much if not much more aching between his legs, but in the repetition of it. He thinks Hanzo had done it completely on purpose, to get the stamina he’d wanted out of him for the fuck, but it leaves him a bit out of breath as it lingers; he takes moments to stop and breath, balls deep. Again a hand crawls up Hanzo back from beneath his shirt, nails digging into his back on the downswing. He makes noises like he thoroughly enjoys it, Mccree tries not to break skin, simply dragging lines into his back, but the more and more Hanzo whines for it, or for him to start fucking him again…. Jesse leans over him, pressing the barred flesh of his back to Mccree’s own natural and synthetic now aggressively thrumming at his midsection. His right arm slips around to his front and attaches to pec there, rubbing a wet digit against its nipple, to Hanzo’s toned pleasure; the left metal slips down between Hanzo legs. It was an interesting feeling, and not something to complain about, the smooth but unyielding metal gripping around him, still gently enough that as it passes over his so sore and aching head, it is given its own tenor of a whimper. It’s even worse when Mccree starts up thrusting roughly again, and between the cock absolutely wrecking his insides and the unique hand jacking off in time, Hanzo stands literally no chance.

Without thinking, he cranes his head up, and looks into the mirror before him- to his own wracked face, still covered in drying cum and saliva, flushed so red he wonders how there’s any blood left to run his erection. Eyes wet themselves with the tears of strain. His own face is so alluring, he wonders, and eyes flick over to the man at his ear- whom, unexpectedly, had already been staring him down. It does nothing to ruin his pleasure when they stare at each other, but it is a weird sort of feeling. And then, the buildup catches him. With eyes clamped shut, Hanzo moans long and loud, barely catching himself with a hand clamped over his mouth, biting into his fingers. Despite his obvious end, flecking cum across metal fingers, pants, the tile floor beneath them, Mccree makes no move to stop or even slow down. On the downswing of his climax, Hanzo gets the treat of being fully fucked for the sake of his partner. However, his show and the way he clamps down on the intruder is too much, and with stuttering bucks, Mccree makes no attempt to remove himself, spending an only slightly lighter load of cum directly inside without provocation. Hanzo wouldn’t have made him remove himself anyways, even if he’d had any remnant of self-aware thought to tell Jesse otherwise. He regrets not to feel the hot fluid within him, behind the aching that overtakes his insides after the pleasure wears thin. He does, however, feel the hollowness as each inch of Mccree removes itself, until he is completely empty- in its wake, then, the trickle of the fluid dripping down his pants. He shudders at the uncomfortable wake of his organs reorganizing themselves to proper, unperforated states, and stands upright, squinting and groaning.

Mccree is still wrapped around him comfortably, still teasing a nipple, and spreading the cum of Hanzo’s from his metal hand to the mess of pubes beneath. “Well lookat that.”

“I told you I would have no trouble.” But his voice is wavering highly, and he’s having the worst time staying on his feet. To his credit, Mccree helps him keep balance.

“Sure did, just gotta prove me wrong, hmn? Now, aren’tcha glad I got the good room with the shower. Don’t know what you’re gonna do ‘bout your pants, though.”

“Usually I think ahead of time, but alas, count me the fool for once in this situation.”

“It’s fine. I got pants. I ain’t got any long-sleeved shirts that’ll fitcha though.”

“I will make due.”

Jesse helps his poor, sore partner into the shower, and they both have a good, nonsexual hose off. Jesse tries not to stare at Hanzo, whom decides now, after fucking so roughly and so wantonly, to be self-conscious of his nudity. He had spotted it before, the scars, some similar to his own; bullet marks, nicks and tears from battle. He hadn’t before spotted the ones on his untattooed arm, long deliberate lines, but very old. He hadn’t before spotted the far more numerous on his thighs, he’d had held a towel there, some old and some.. less, old. Not fresh enough to be scabby. But it’s none of Mccree’s business, he decides, not now, anyways. Relieved that nothing on it is mentioned, and absolutely the weariest they’ve been in a long while, they crawl into bed. It would be a short few hours of sleep before their meeting with the doctor in the morning, but it would be restful as hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was thinking about cancelling this but i thought, at the very least, that hanzo and mccree could fuck first. for a while, i forgot where i was going with this, but i sort of remember now. =wo;;;
> 
> thank you to kirinlust for advocating hanzo with his snuffling underpanties enough that i didn't feel like this was completely weird.


End file.
